


Now You Know, Too

by Megpryor



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megpryor/pseuds/Megpryor
Summary: Jed Bartlet has to decide whether to admit to being abused by his father and what the ramifications of that admission might mean to his Presidency. His decision creates more trouble than he and the West Wing expect.





	1. Decision Time

**Author's Note:**

> The actions of Jed's father are based on experiences of a very close associate of the author. Jed's reactions are based also on that associate's experiences.

CHAPTER ONE - Decision Time

Jed Bartlet’s life was celebrated because of his greatness. His 180 IQ made him just about the smartest man in America. His position as President of the United States made him the most powerful man in the world. A PhD in Economics from the most prestigious economics school in the world was distinguished with a Nobel Prize for his work on building third world economies. Nothing about him was small except his physical stature and even that was denied by the shoulders of a man with far more strength that he seemed able to possess.

He sat at his desk in the Oval and read over the statement he would be making the following day. His speech would be televised as part of an awareness show highlighting the needs of abused children. The producers knew the President appearing for this cause was a real coup. To hear the leader of the free world talk would bring in loads of viewers and therefore loads of money that would enable children to get the help they needed.

Across from his desk, his speech writer Toby Ziegler sat saying nothing. The speech had zero importance and for Toby to author a speech like this was unusual. He didn’t write gutless words. Jed was disappointed. “Toby, the speech is soulless. This isn’t you. There’s no passion in these words and this is a subject deserving great passion.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but you don’t want to get into reality, do you? If you do, then there’s another way to go.”

Jed was getting angry at the relentlessness of his communications director. “Let it go, Toby. What’s your fascination with my father’s and my relationship?” His chair swiveled till he was looking out the window at the snow drifting down. “And why did I get scheduled for this thing? I don’t talk about my childhood. It’s no one’s business except mine. It was a complicated relationship.”

Toby never knew when he crossed lines, so he barreled in with words regardless of how they sounded. “You didn’t let your ‘complicated relationship’ hold you back. Your father was an abuser. No matter how much you want to deny that, you can’t.” He kept going, advocating for this special group of Americans. “The kids going through what you went through deserve a President that stands up for them. These children are your constituency just as much as their parents are. Maybe even more so.”

The President tossed the lousy speech on his desk. The road to take lay before him, but he wanted to turn back. Remembered physical and emotional pain along with an internal increasing need to tell had him saying, “You know it was more than an occasional slap across my face. Abbey knows. Leo knows but no one else does.” For a man of words, he stumbled over continuing. “You want me to confess something I’ve hidden for decades.”

“What are you afraid of? You’ve been censured. They can’t do that again and, in this circumstance, it would be unconscionable.”

“Like that stopped Congress before.” He stood up, stretched muscles that didn’t ache from his MS, but felt real pain from the past. “I can’t put words to it, Toby. I can’t say things out loud. He . . .” Just as he predicted, the words wouldn’t come out. This was a confession he had to make to himself first and he didn’t know what he wanted.

Then it hit him. He wanted freedom from the shame, the embarrassment, the knowledge of his father’s hatred and the agonizing memories of each attack on his body. It was time for him to give up the brutality of his personal history. “Saying it out loud scares the shit out of me.” That was the biggest truth he’d spoken about his abuse in decades. Putting things into words and sharing those words frightened him for reasons he didn’t completely understand. “Let me give this a try but be patient.” The man called the orator of his generation stammered, “You will be hearing me say things I’ve never said before.” Deep breaths punctuated his hesitancy. With his back to his speechwriter, he finally meekly admitted, “He hurt me and I mean truly hurt me.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

With sarcasm that told Toby to stop being stupid, he said, “You did? And how on earth did you figure that?”

Toby stared at the floor. “I just did.”

He walked to the window and stared out onto the portico, his back now to Toby. “You got too much time on your hands if you’re figuring out my father hit me.”

“It’s my job to know you and write for you. I write in your voice, not mine. Your voice has been shaped by your experiences and what your father did to you is a big part of that. Your pacifism, your liberation theology, your willingness to take huge political risks for the impossibility of peace in the Middle East - all that is partly because you know real pain and real hurt. He did that to you and you suffered, but he helped create the man you are. While I can unequivocally tell you I hate him, I’m grateful for whatever part he had in making you the man I work for today.”

Toby approached Jed and stood beside him. “I don’t admire people, sir. I basically don’t like people, but when I see you, I wish I could be more like you.”

Shaking his head with a wry smile. “You don’t want my life, Toby. Oh, there are perks. There’s Abbey and my girls. Actually, those are the only perks that matter. Somehow, Abbey got it in her head that I was worth caring about. Can’t work that out, but it’s true. Even with the arguments we have, she’s my saving grace. She was the third non-blood related person to know what my father did to me. Mrs. Landingham was first. Leo was the second.”

It was a gamble, but Toby put his hand on Jed’s shoulder. “If these kids know they could grow up to be President, then you will change their lives. They got to hear it from you that you have scars. You can’t be ashamed to talk about it.”

“Don’t forget, Toby, I’m one of them.” That was a confession he didn’t realize he had to make. “I’m still dealing with all the stuff that happened to me.” Confession in church always soothed his soul. He was hoping confessing his past to Toby might do the same. “I still occasionally have nightmares. He’s been dead for two decades and he can find a way to still haunt me.”

The gamble went further. “Tell me what he did. Tell me about one incident but tell me the details. I won’t use it in the speech, but it will help me focus.”

Jed walked to the bar and poured two fingers of bourbon over some ice. “I don’t know if I can. Saying things out loud.” The words wouldn’t come. “I can’t do it.”

“Words make it real and you don’t want it to be real. Who wants to admit their father hated them?”

The downward shrug of Jed’s shoulders told Toby he crossed the line again. “Just stop. Write me a speech and forget my father.”

“If that’s what you want, but you’ve never asked me to lie for you before.”

Jed downed all the bourbon. “You are a son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, and you are the spawn of a bastard. Screw him. Nail his ass to the floor and put it out there. He hit you. You remained a genius. You won a Nobel. You’re President of the United States. He didn’t win.”

“It’s not that easy.” His mind brought up visions of wounds still visible. Mustering the courage he had, he admitted, “Scars, Toby. He hasn’t hit me in over 40 years and the scars are still there. I stopped noticing them until Rosslyn. The new one got me noticing the old ones again.”

“You still have scars?” Toby kept pushing the line as Jed poured more bourbon. “Let me see them.”

Silence crushed the spirits of both men. Breathing became hard and the wall crashed in on top of them. Toby figured he was going to be fired. Even he knew he was out of line. A full minute passed before Jed placed his glass on the side table. With unsteady hands, he unbuttoned his vest, took it off and laid it over the back of the couch. His shirttails pulled out of his trousers and the buttons took a lot longer than they should, but then his fingers were shaking. He hadn’t turned to face Toby. The shirt slid from his body and he stayed where he was. He couldn’t move. “You wanted to see, so come look.”

Toby’s own fear almost kept him from approaching the President, but he forced his feet to take the few steps. He was fearful. “Sir, you sure you want to do this?”

Angrily, Jed snapped, “No, I’m not sure, but here we are. Fuck you, take a look,” he continued mockingly, “then write about it in my voice.”

The marks had paled over the years but weren’t hard to see crisscrossing from his shoulders to his lower back. Off to his side was the smaller, almost insignificant looking exit bullet hole from Rosslyn. The scars were far more than Toby anticipated. Here were the remnants of horrific attacks. No wonder the President had trouble putting words to the acts. This was proof of incapacitating pain and soul wrenching humiliation.

The stripes were faintly raised marks. Toby had to remember that these were remnants from almost half a century before. “Good Lord, what did he do to you? I didn’t expect this.”

He started to dress. “Neither did Abbey. The night she saw them for the first time, she cried for an hour. That was a delightful date.”

Toby had to hear the answer to his next question because it seemed an impossibility. “Did he whip you? I mean, like a belt?”

“Great deduction, Toby. However, you left out the actual whip he used on occasion. I grew up on a farm.” The first button on his shirt was pushed through the hole. “He nearly killed me once. If it wasn’t for Leo and Mrs. Landingham, I wouldn’t have survived.” The second and third button hooked up.

“Tell me about it.”

“No,” spit out immediately. “I don’t even know why I let you see his work.”

“Because you needed to let me see it. You want this, Mr. President. I’ve never seen anything frighten you like this before. Tell me a story and maybe you can start to let go of the fear. You’ll be able to tell these kids that becoming the President of the United States is possible. Can’t you see how profound that is? You owe it to them and, just as importantly, you owe it to yourself.”

Finally, the President turned to confront his staff member. “So, what do you think now? Was it what you hoped for?”

Toby’s head quietly shook from side to side. “I don’t like the question, sir. My hopes were that the scars would be really hard to see, that all this angst was a faded memory you had trouble getting over. There’s nothing faded there.”

“It’s faded a lot.” He put his vest back on. “I have no idea why I did that. Maybe you’re right. It might be time to admit to what I am.”

“You mean to what he was.” Toby sat down without a second thought, a definite politically incorrect move in front of the President of the United States. He nearly fell into the chair.

The President walked back to the Resolute Desk and sat down facing the portico window. “I get angry and I can bellow with the best of them, but talking about this scares me and I do not want to be blubbering on national television while talking to kids about how my daddy didn’t like me.”

“I’d never write a speech like that. That’s not who you are.”

Toby and the President sat saying nothing for a very long time. After waiting to figure out how to continue, a knock came from one of the four doors. Jed called out, “Come on in.”

Leo entered, sensed the tension and looked at his best friend with concern. “Are you alright, sir?” The silence notched up his disquiet. “What’s going on?”

The President broke the pressure. “Don’t worry, Leo. I haven’t fired Toby yet and he hasn’t stepped over the line any more than usual.”

With a wry look, Toby said, “I wouldn’t say that. I think I obliterated the line on several occasions.”

The President shrugged. “So, we’re drawing new lines and that’s my fault.”

Leo sat across from Toby, “Has a decision been made? Is he going to address the nation about child abuse?”

“That’s his decision, not mine.”

Both trusted staff members stared at the President of the United States, Josiah Edward Bartlet, great, great, great, great grandson of a founding father, an abused child with the scars to prove it. He kept his eyes on the desktop. “I’ll talk, but make it real, Toby. Don’t go into details but make it real. I won’t lie to children.”

Leo was surprised. “You’re going to let people know about your father?”

“You were there.”

The incident was burned into Leo’s memory. “Yeah, I was, but then I ran away from it and left you alone.”

“Don’t do that, Leo. You had to get away before you did something stupid like kill him. You were angry enough to.”

Leo stopped the conversation. “Toby, doesn’t need to know about that.”

Jed worked hard at looking into Leo’s eyes. “If you’re going to be uncomfortable, then you’d better leave. I’m going to tell him about that time.”

The admission was startling. “You’re going to talk about it? You never talk about it. Even your daughters don’t know.”

“They’ll find out tonight. I’m going to tell kids that what happens doesn’t have to dictate what you can achieve. I don’t know if it will make any difference to them or not. One old man telling them to be brave isn’t a tremendous incentive.”

Leo wasn’t convinced the decision was good. “Sir, your history won’t change a thing. These kids need someone close to them to help. That’s not you.”

“Mr. President, I don’t agree. Children need heroes. ‘Jed Bartlet is like me. I can be like him.’ Heroes are a big part of a kid’s life.”

Leo mumbled, “You want a cape and a phone booth?”

Toby was getting angry. “Why are you fighting this? He has to tell people.”

“People, yeah. Stanley the shrink, his daughters, the staff, but not the world. His entire Presidency will revolve around this from now on. Between the MS and his father, his Presidency will be over and we have two years left.”

Jed hated being talked about while sitting there. “Stop it, both of you. I won’t politicize child abuse.”

“Then don’t do the program.”

Toby asked the question. “What are you afraid of, Leo? This is more than just politics for you. You’re scared of it.”

Leo pawed at the floor. “I’m not afraid of it. It’s what happened. I saw it. I know what his father did to him. I washed his blood off my hands - literally.”

Jed’s tenuous calm started to unravel. “I can’t continue this right now. I can’t.” He held out his hands and the tremor was obvious. “I have to get some rest. If this shaking gets worse, there may not be a decision to make. MS may make it for me.”

Leo jumped in. “And this is the problem. I don’t want this Presidency defined by MS and abuse. I want it defined by the China Summit, by the Middle East Summit and the resolution of Social Security. With this, he’s a damaged man who got elected and some other stuff happened and it must have been because of everyone else, but not him. With this, he’s a puppet we’ve manipulated. Toby, you, better than the rest of us, know that isn’t true. You were in China. If he hadn’t risked his life, the North Korea Summit never would have happened. That’s what I want people to remember.”

The arguing wasn’t helping the President. “They’ll remember what they want to remember. We can’t control that no matter how much we try to.” His color began to pale. “Really, I’m not feeling well.” He pushed the phone button. “Debbie, could you ask Abbey to come to the Oval soon? I need her.”

From her desk, Debbie Fiderer, the President’s head secretary, could tell there was a situation. “Sir, should I call for the doctor?”

“Just the one I’m married to. She’ll get more help if we need it. Things are going south here.”

Debbie hung up and made the call. Dr. Bartlet was in her office and less than two minutes away. However, she grabbed a bottle of cold water and other things she kept in case her boss needed immediate help. Without knocking, she walked into the Oval and went directly to his side. “You going to spew?”

He laughed a little. “Yeah, that might be happening. I sucked down too much bourbon in too little time.”

“For a smart guy, sometimes you act extremely stupid.”

The plastic bag in Debbie’s hand was snatched just in time. Jed opened it, stuck his head in the opening and proceeded to let go of the bourbon and whatever it was he’d eaten for lunch. “Shit.”

At his side, Leo helped hold the bag. “You’ll be okay. You go to the Residence and get some sleep. We’ll work this abuse thing later.”

Abbey entered on Leo’s words.

Debbie asked, “What abuse thing?”

Jed had another moment of retching. He shook his head and pointed to Toby.

Abbey took over holding the bag and knelt by Jed’s side. “You’re debating the Abuse Telethon? I didn’t know that was a possibility.” She brushed his hair off his forehead. “It would be a brave thing to do, but if you’re not feeling well, then maybe a postponement would be good. You can still come clean about it, but no one says it has to be tomorrow night.”

There were nods from around the room. Jed’s eyes closed completely and no part of the conversation registered. Debbie, like Abbey, had her attention on the President. “Dr. Bartlet, should I call for the medic?”

The good wife felt his cheek, but no fever was apparent. Help however would be good. An IV could help a lot. “Yeah.” Debbie disappeared immediately. Abbey addressed her husband, “Jed, we have to get you to the Residence. Looks like you’re having an episode. Tell me what’s going on.”

“My gut hurts. My right eye hurts.” Abbey gave him a gentle hug, He pulled back with a quiet grunt, his face filled with pain. “And dysesthesia. It’s not bad, feels like a static electricity thing, but don’t touch me.”

Toby wondered aloud, “What’s dysesthesia?”

Abbey’s attention was on Jed but she answered. “It’s a skin thing. If you touch him, he feels static electricity.”

The medical team showed up and went into action. The team carefully transported his touch sensitive body up to his rooms. Leo and Toby followed. Debbie remained and, before leaving the group, said to Abbey, “Let me know if I can be of any help.”

A path was cleared so that the President wasn’t on display. The trip was painful and the transfer into bed didn’t help. Abbey helped undress Jed down to his shorts and tee shirt. The agony on his face had them all feeling like intruders on a most private moment. His occasional moan didn’t help matters. This was not a good sign. The speech for the children was no longer an issue. The state of the President’s health dictated his schedule now.

Betaseron, steroids, and saline dripped through an IV. Nothing more could be done for now. It was decided to wait a few hours to determine if this was the beginning of a serious episode or just a mild but compromising exacerbation. Abbey may not have been able to practice medicine, but she was a most capable doctor and watching her husband through the evening, overnight and into the next morning wasn’t brain surgery.

Jed was still President and he ordered everyone to leave except for Abbey, Leo and Toby. The two staff sat across from the bed where Abbey sat next to her husband. They were all silent. Jed finally spoke, “We have to decide about the speech.”

Abbey answered first. “Jed, you can’t be serious.”

“Toby can write me five minutes. I can do it from the Oval. This episode might be over in an hour. The dysesthesia is already disappearing.”

No one said a thing. The lack of response threw a desperate pall over the room. Abbey spoke first. “Do you realize what you’ll be telling people?”

“I’m not stupid.” His eyes glossed over. “I can’t do it anymore, Abbey. I’ve been having nightmares and spacing out on what he did. I’m not doing the country any good.” A grimace punctuated his statement. “Now, I need to get some sleep. Toby knows about my father. I showed him the scars. Now he has to have the story. Abbey, you’re going to tell him everything. Then, Toby will write my speech. If I give it tomorrow, that’s preferred. If I can’t, then we’ll save it for the future. In any case, get Liz, Ellie, and Zoey in on speaker. They have to know.” He yawned.

Leo stood up first. “Let’s meet in the President’s library. We can set up a conference call there.” They made their way out as Charlie made his way in. He would stay and keep watch over the man he loved like a father.

Abbey was confused and questioned Toby. “He showed you the scars? He’s never willingly shown anyone his scars.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it willingly. I sort of pushed him into it and now I’m embarrassed I did.”

Leo sighed and sat down. “Let’s get the girls setup.”

Toby added, “I’ll call the kitchen and get something for us to eat.”

Abbey started for the door. “I want to be sure Charlie is okay with him. I’ll be right back.” She left them alone and went back to her husband. Checking up on Charlie was an excuse for her to see Jed again.

As Abbey entered, Charlie stood. “It’s okay. Just wanted to see how he was doing.” Jed was already asleep and, while at rest, his body wasn’t resting well. Pain infiltrated his features.

Charlie took his President watch seriously. “I think he’s having nightmares. Either that or something hurts. He keeps making these faces.”

“Probably some of both.” She sat next to him and gently touched his arm. There was no reaction which pleased her. “Seems like the dysesthesia is gone.”

The body man had rapidly learned to love the President and seeing him in pain was difficult. “Ma’am, is he going to be okay?” I mean, it’s getting worse and happening more often. I know we don’t have a long time left in office, but sometimes, I think he should tell people he’s done and go take care of himself in Manchester.”

She petted the bare shoulder of her husband. “I know and there are times I agree, but he has to call the shots. He won’t jeopardize the country for his own ego, but then he won’t give up without a fight.”

The significance of the earlier argument hadn’t been lost on the young man who attended Jed’s every need. “Ma’am, you know I’ve been around him for a lot of personal stuff. I’ve seen the scars. It wasn’t hard to figure out what his father did to him. Can I say something?”

“Of course, Charlie.”

He inhaled loudly and deeply. “I think he should give the speech. Those kids need him. I didn’t have anyone beating me, but I needed a hero and he stepped right up without a second thought. He’s already a hero and the more children who see that, the better. Sports guys, actors are great, but he is a real hero. He’s mine and I owe him my life.”

The sincerity of the words made her to hug the young man. “Thank you, Charlie. He loves you so much. It’s all up to his health. If he can do it physically then I think he will.”

Then Charlie thought he should let Dr. Bartlet know. “Zoey and her sisters know about their grandfather. They just didn’t want you or him to know they knew. It won’t be a surprise on the phone. It will probably just be a relief that they don’t have to hide it anymore.”

She was surprised. “How much to do they know?”

“They know he was abused, but I’m not sure how much information they have on what he suffered.”

Quietly, she whispered, “Do you?”

It was an intrusion he never felt comfortable about. “Not really. I’ve seen the scars. I only imagine how they got there.”

Abbey called out, “Michael?” The agent outside the door entered. “Michael, would you please sit in here with the President. Charlie is coming to the meeting with me.” Michael nodded and Abbey took Charlie’s hand. “You’re with me.” She kissed the President’s forehead and they left.

Back in the library, the phones had hooked up the girls with those there. Abbey greeted them and said, “Charlie says you all know a lot of this story about your grandfather and your father. We have more to say. Your father has decided to open up about what happened to him and he may do it on national television tomorrow night. We want to be sure we all are working from the same information.”

Lizzie spoke up. “Where’s dad? Why isn’t he telling us?”

Ellie knew. “Is he having an episode? Is he okay?”

Abbey let them all know. “He’s asleep now and I think the episode is waning. He had dysesthesia earlier and that seems to be gone.”

They all settled into seats and Abbey accepted the role as moderator. “He wanted to tell you about the worst situation he suffered. Leo was there. So was Mrs. Landingham. In fact, she and her husband had a huge part in his recovery. It was the time your grandfather came very close to killing him. Very close.”  
 


	2. The Painful Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jed allows others to hear about his worst day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update has minimal changes and if you have read this chapter before, the update is not worth a re-reading.

CHAPTER TWO - The Painful Past

Bright warm sunlight wasn’t worth much to the two young teens dressed in prep school uniforms hiding from their father. The younger one had tears in his eyes. The older boy stared resolvedly into the cloudless sky. “Stop crying. He’s not going to hurt you.” Under his breath the big brother whispered, “He never does.”

Ashamed of his added thought, he took his brother’s hand. “You got to get out of here. He’s going to let me have it today. I doubt I’ll get to school. You go ahead, Jon. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. He doesn’t lay a hand on me.”

“And be grateful for that. I know I am. I’m bigger. I can take it. You’re still a shrimp.” He rubbed the boy’s head. “Maybe you’ll be bigger than me one day.”

Jon wiped his eyes. “Why can’t we tell someone what he does to you?”

“Cause when we’re done telling, he’d get madder and God knows what he’ll do then.”

“Mama could help.”

“Oh, Jon.” Help from Mama was never going to be. Their mother lived in a psych hospital and had for several years. Standing up, he pulled Jon to his feet. “You got to go. If you’re late for school, he’ll blame me.”

The younger boy put his arms around his brother. “I’m so sorry, Jed. Be careful, okay? Just agree with him and maybe he won’t get so mad.”

From the house they heard a booming, angry voice call out, “Josiah, get over here!”

Jed smiled. “Gotta go. See you later.”

“Promise?”

Jed didn’t answer him. A gentle shove sent Jon on to school and away from witnessing the beating Jed was about to get. He watched his brother once again escape the wrath of their father.

He started his trek toward the man who was about to hurt him for some unfathomable crime he didn’t know he committed. It had been getting worse and the boy became more and more capable of suffering in silence, a trait his father did not admire. The newfound talent only fueled the beatings. This one promised to be on a new level altogether.

Jed reached the bottom of the steps. His father quietly said, “You took your time getting here. Are you trying to antagonize me?”

He took baby brother’s advice. “No, sir. I was saying good-bye to Jon.” The violence in his father’s eyes had him gasp in anticipation. “I’m sorry, father.”

“Don’t lie to me. You lie to me constantly.”

He never understood why he wanted to reason with his father, but he couldn’t stop trying. “I don’t lie. You taught me better than that. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Where were you after school yesterday?”

Hell, this was going to be bad. “I was at the library.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Mrs. Landingham looked for you at the school library and you weren’t around. What library were you at?”

He’d made his way to the library in Manchester. He met a friend there and friends weren’t tolerated. “The library in town.”

“Why?” Jed held his tongue. Whatever the answer was, he was going to be beaten badly, probably too badly to leave the house. “Why, Jed?”

Sheepishly, he answered, “To meet my friend.”

“Who?” His foot pounded the top step. “I know all your classmates and none knew where you were.”

He was caught. Tell the truth, pray dear old dad believed him and get the hurt over with, “I met a girl to study with.”

Jed’s father stared into Jed’s blue eyes. “You purposely set out to disgrace me. Why can’t you learn? You’re supposed to be a genius, but I don’t see it. Genius knows how to behave. You’re an embarrassment to me and my position as Headmaster.”

Jed wasn’t going to argue. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Go to your room. Put on work clothing and meet me in the barn.”

Jed climbed the steps knowing that going to the barn was bad, but he’d been there before. He’d just do it again. The gray slacks, navy jacket, and white shirt were put into his closet. Work pants and a tee shirt replaced them and he stopped. He grabbed a heavy corduroy shirt and slipped it on hoping it might absorb some of the blows. He tied his work boots and trotted toward the barn hoping he hadn’t taken too long.

But hopes fade quickly when history had written the scenario too many times. Jed’s father was waiting for him, a horsewhip in hand. The boy’s heart skipped a beat. He’d been hit with a buggy whip in the past, maybe twice. A horsewhip was a new weapon. Jed shook. “Please, father.”

The plea was for mercy, but the older man purposely twisted its meaning and toyed with his son. “You said, ‘please’ as if you were welcoming punishment. Is that what you meant?”

“Please don’t whip me. Please don’t.”

The school headmaster coiled the leather and placed it on a bale of hay. “You beg, like the ungrateful maggot you are. I want you bare-backed.”

Jed tightened up but pulled off his shirt with growing fear. This wasn’t going to be a typical punishment. This was promising to be a new experience. He said a silent prayer in hope that he would survive. The young teen stood half-naked in front of his father. The man pulled an axe handle from the workbench. Pointing toward horse stall, he demanded, “Take the position.”

Jed stood with his arms outstretched on the gate, his legs apart, his back to his father. He never saw the blow, but he felt the crack against his skin and bones. He yelped. Another blow followed and deep bruises grew immediately. A third blow crashed against his right leg by his knee. The leg collapsed and Jed knew the bone was cracked. He tried to stand on it, but it didn’t support his skinny body.

He rolled on the ground holding his leg and groaning. His father’s response was to bring the axe handle down on his son’s shoulder. It came down like a jackhammer over and over again. Instinct had him catching the handle in his hand and pulling it from his father’s grasp.

The older man grabbed it back. Jed rolled away but not before the handle came squarely down catching over his eye.

Bartlet yanked his son toward a bale of hay, throwing Jed across it on his stomach. The pain was beyond anything delivered ever before. Breathing was hard and his eye was swelling shut. His back ached from the blows, but he had no idea that his pain would escalate in a matter of seconds.

He didn’t hear the snap, but the whip lashed down cutting through his skin and spraying blood over the hay. Again, the whip flew through the air and striped his bleeding back. The next time, his father yelled, “You will not go whoring around town. You will not dishonor me!” Eight more strokes beat him to near unconsciousness. His body went limp and he fell off the bale.

Without a bit of caring, the bastard headmaster dragged his son over the bale again. He pulled down Jed’s pants. Pain deadened his awareness and, though conscious, he was oblivious. This was a first. In his imagination, he never considered sodomy. The blow to his soul almost hurt more than the wooden handle invading his body. It forced into him again. A third attempt failed and he fell to the ground.

His father opened an empty grain bin, threw him in it and bolted the lid shut. No Bartlet would be caught whoring.

Jed heard his father say, “I have to get to school.” Then there was silence and he faded into a stupor that at least lessened the pain a little. All he had to do was survive until his younger brother got home to unlock the bin in just another seven or eight hours.

Jed managed to maneuver his ragingly raw body into a position that allowed him to rest a little. His leg and his back were inconsolable. The sodomy was unthinkable, a new crime, a new attack that tore his humanity as much as it tore his flesh. He hadn’t shed tears in years, but this time they fell without his wanting them to.

There was no reason for the torture. Jed’s crime was being a once in a generation brain. Instead of celebrating the fact that this anomaly of greatness was a Bartlet, the old man hated the bright shining mind of his son. Weakness, perversity of character and jealousy made Jed’s father a vile, depraved monster whose goal was to destroy any goodness in his child’s intellect and personality. He didn’t understand that his son was even a better human being than anyone knew, that his verisimilitude was immeasurable. If his body could survive the onslaught, his young mind was endless. All Jed had to do was convince his body not to die.

Young Jon returned home from school before his father could get home, he ran into the barn to check the bin where his father liked to lock up his brother. Sure enough, the bolt was through the lock and Jon easily slid it out. “Jed? You okay?” The lid was large and made it hard for the boy to lift, but he did as he had done before. However, he’d never seen his brother so beaten and bruised. “God. Jed, are you alive?”

Jed heard his brother and made a groaning noise. “Jon, it hurts so much.”

“You need a doctor. Your face is all swollen and I can hear you breathing.”

“Help me get out of here. My leg, I think he broke it.”

Jed took his time crawling from the box, but he called it right. His leg folded under his weight. Jon stood by too frightened to help his brother. “I’ll just hurt you, Jed. We need help. Your face is all swollen up. Can you even see?”

“Not too well. Call Leo McGarry. He’ll help. Go to the school and tell Mrs. Landingham you want to talk to Leo. She’ll help you.”

“You can’t just lie here.”

“Father won’t do a thing to me now. He won’t come looking.” At least, that was the typical aftermath. However, this wasn’t the typical beating. Jed understood there’d be pain, but he never thought the smacking around could turn sexual and maybe kill him - until today. “Just go, Jonny. Tell Mrs. Landingham you need Leo.” He fell back on the clay floor appreciating the coolness after being stuck in the hot bin all day. “Go.”

Jon ran to the school without stopping and in fifteen minutes, he was in front of Mrs. Landingham. She smiled at him. “Your father is at a meeting with the Department Heads. It’s going to be a late one.”

“I need to find Leo McGarry. I need him.”

The fear in the child’s voice startled her. He’d never been like this - out of breath, frantic and frightened. In her heart, she knew why. “What’s wrong, Jon? Where’s Jed? I didn’t see him today.”

Secrets were a part of the Bartlet code. You never told secrets about the family. “I need Leo McGarry.”

Leo was Jed’s best friend and this call for him awakened her own fear. “Why? He’s Jed’s friend, not yours. Does Jed need him?”

“Please, just tell me where he is.”

She wasn’t going to get the information she wanted by demanding it. She tried going sideways. “I’ll find Leo. You go tell Jed he’s coming. Where is Jed? Leo has to know.”

Jon hesitated. “In our barn. He wants Leo to help.”

She stood up and grabbed her purse. “I’ll find Leo and get him to your farm as soon as I can. You go tell your brother help is coming.” Her hand caressed Jon’s cheek briefly. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you.” She ran out of the office to find Leo and get to Jed.

She saw how her employer treated his remarkable son and it pained her. This was a child whom she couldn’t help but love. She sensed his greatness, calling him a Boy King, heads smarter than the smartest kids in class. With his mind, he should have been in college by now, but his father couldn’t have dealt with that. The young genius was kept back which ironically served his personality. His circle of friends was close to his age. The group wasn’t big, but he belonged.

Why didn’t his father proclaim this child to the world? Why hide him away? Why belittle him? And today, why hurt him? She knew. She knew too well, but she didn’t know how bad it was this time.

Making her way to the gym, she prayed Leo was there playing ball. She was right. Like Jed, he was too small for the game, but loved the competition. He just missed an easy shot when he heard, “Leo! Leo, come here please!”

The young McGarry ran to her. “Yes, Mrs. Landingham. What did I do now?”

There wasn’t time for anything but the truth. “Jed needs you. He sent Jonathon to find you. He wants you at the family barn. I think he’s hurt. Jon was too afraid to tell me.”

Like other people close to Jed, Leo had seen the bruising. The situation wasn’t hard to guess.

Mrs. Landingham asked, “You want to drive?”

They took off ignoring speed limits stopping only to pick up young Jon on the road. Leo didn’t tolerate hiding things. “What did your bastard father do to him?” Jon said nothing. “I won’t say a thing to your father, but what did he do?”

Jon started to cry. “Jed’s face is all swollen and he can’t stand up.”

Leo’s anger had to get under control. “That son of a bitch.”

The car pulled up to the barn entry. “Leo, Jed is the focus now.” The doors slammed and the trio ran toward the injured boy. He was curled up on the ground, not moving, barely breathing and unaware the cavalry had arrived. Mrs. Landingham didn’t know what to do. “Oh, my God. Look at his back. He’s been whipped.” Then she saw the blood on his buttocks. “Dear God, he raped him.”

Jon wrapped his arms around Leo. “Please, don’t let him die.”

“Don’t worry. He’s not going to die. We’re going to help him.” He turned his attention to Mrs. Landingham. “He has to go to the hospital. Look at his face. He’s got to have a concussion.”

The secretary asked, “Do you have a driver’s license?” Leo nodded. “You drive. I’ll take Jed in the back seat.” She looked at the younger brother. “You sit in front with Leo.”

Delicately, they lifted Jed into the car, laying his head on Mrs. Landingham’s lap. She gently brushed wild hair off his forehead. He moaned hard when they crossed a wood bridge and the car rumbled with each slat. “It’s okay, Jed. Just a bridge and there aren’t any more.”

Finally, Jed opened the one eye he could, saw her and tried to sit up. A thin ragged voice said, “We were robbed. Three men came and didn’t expect me to be home. They beat me up and locked me in the grain bin.” His head lolled back in her lap. “We were robbed. Three men.”

The rehearsed words had no veracity. Mrs. Landingham gently stroked his bare chest. “Three men, Jed? You don’t think I believe that, do you? This is your father’s work and you more than anyone knows that.”

“We were robbed. Three men came and didn’t expect me . . . locked me . . .”

Leo heard the lie. “You know he won’t change his story. Jon knows the truth, too.”

The young boy stared out the car window wondering what lay in his future. Would he now become the focus of his father’s cruelty? More than ever, Jed needed to be okay.

The car drove up to the emergency room door. Leo ran inside and got help. In a few minutes, Jed lay in an exam room leaving the rest of them in the sitting area to simply wait for news.

Leo paced back and forth. He was three years older than Jed, but still this younger boy was his friend. Leo was the school’s annual charity case and most of the privileged boys in attendance at the fancy prep school had no use for someone in Leo’s social class. Jed didn’t care about strata. He liked Leo. They talked politics, played chess and encouraged each other’s mischievous streak while still building their innate senses of responsibility to others.

“You know, Mrs. Landingham, my dad committed suicide. I used to think that was the worst thing he could have done to me. Now, I see it could have been a lot worse. Jed lives with it every day. His father is pure evil.”

“Leo, I know, but Jed doesn’t want us to know. Maybe we’re hurting him more than helping, but it’s not an easy situation. Right now, I just want him to be okay. I pray to God that beautiful brain of his hasn’t been damaged.”

“Even if it isn’t physically, a person can’t survive this without having their mind damaged. There’s no way this isn’t doing terrible things inside him. He’ll probably turn into a mass murderer or something.”

She had to laugh. “Leo, is there any person on the face of this earth less likely to become a mass murderer than Josiah Bartlet? He told me that he wants to be a priest when he grows up.”

“If he grows up, Mrs. Landingham.”

No one spoke again until the doctor came out to talk to them. “He’s going to pull through, but it’s going to take a long time. There are so many injuries that it’s hard to get through the list.” The doctor sat down and began the litany.

“His leg is broken. Ordinarily it wouldn’t be such a bad break, but it was twisted and neglected for hours. The bruises on his torso are from cracked ribs and a bruised kidney. The ribs bruised his lungs, but there’s no puncture as far as we can tell. The kidney damage will need him to be on dialysis for a short time. Dialysis is hard on the body, but we have no choice.”

Leo’s temper was flaring. “You said he was going to be okay. This doesn’t sound okay to me. This sounds like he’s barely alive.”

“Well, your description isn’t inaccurate, but I do think he’ll be okay eventually.” The doctor looked at Mrs. Landingham. “There’s more.” The doctor checked the chart. “His left shoulder was broken, but not as badly as his leg.” With a deep sigh, he went on, “It’s the head injury that’s going to need to be watched. The bone around his eye is fractured. There may be some vision loss, but we won’t be able to tell until it heals better.”

Mrs. Landingham wanted to know. “Is there brain damage?”

The doctor thought for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t think so. He was awake and we had very coherent conversations with him about the robbery. We even got great descriptions of the men who did this. The bleeding wounds on his back came from being horsewhipped. I had to take 21 stitches to close them all up. These animals should be sent to prison for life.” The doctor could barely say it, “I mean, they raped him, but the shame of it. He should have stopped them.”

Leo’s voice boomed out. “You saying it’s his fault? You’re as big an idiot as his father! Three robbers. You believe that story?”

Mrs. Landingham took Leo’s hand. “Careful.”

“The police said his father corroborated the robbery.”

The two adults who knew better stared at each other. No one was going to believe them now. The Bartlets, the mighty Bartlets of New Hampshire were robbed and the heir apparent viciously attacked. The sympathy the patriarch would get would be gratefully received. The cover-up was in place and Jed would live to see another day and most likely another manifestation of his father’s vindictiveness. More pain, more shame, more hiding, more secrets, more lies, especially lies to himself. Life for Jed Bartlet was not going to get any easier.

Mrs. Landingham sat next to the barely conscious teenager, holding his hand and singing a soft song, a lullaby for his tattered spirit. He would maintain he was too old for a lullaby, but his heart needed soothing and turning back into a little boy gave him permission to be coddled and sung to. His own mother wouldn’t do it. The excuse was that she was too ill and she was, but her illness was caused by emotional and physical abuse. She shut down after little Jonathon was born and rarely was seen again. Mrs. Landingham filled in that portion of life for Jed, though he couldn’t admit it to his father nor to her.

Leo stared at the swollen face, unrecognizable to most. “God, he doesn’t look like a person. It’s like some weird science fiction movie.”

His eye, his one uninjured eye struggled to open. It was a fight, but he won and saw his brother first. “Jonny, come here.” One arm reached out and Jon gingerly tucked himself into Jed’s chest. “I’m okay. I got to stay here awhile, but you’ll be fine. The police are going to be all over the place since we were robbed. You’ll be safe.” Jed smiled at the worried boy. “I’ll be okay. He won’t hurt me again since the police are involved now.” His breath hitched and he gasped.

Jon pulled away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you hurt.”

“You didn’t, but I want to talk to Leo and Mrs. Landingham. Go wait outside. You’ll be okay.” It was obvious that he was trying to control the pain. He winced loudly. “Sorry.”

Jon exited and Leo started in. “Why are you protecting your father? He should be in jail for what he does to you.”

“We were robbed.”

“Bullshit.”

Mrs. Landingham reprimanded him. “Watch your language. You’re supposed to be a gentleman.”

“Like his old man?”

“No, like Jed. I don’t like that he protects his father, but he has to make his own decisions. Our role here is support.”

Jed hated being the third person, the one talked over. “Jon has to be taken care of. He’s scared.” A big grimace showed and a horrifying groan sounded out. In true fear, a scared boy asked, “Am I going to die?”

Leo snapped. “No. I won’t let you. There’s too much for you to do and first thing is get out of this town and away from him.”

A small blonde guardian angel took Jed’s hand. “You won’t die. I’m going to take care of you. When they release you, I’ll take you to my home. Henry and I will give you the attention you’ll need.”

Jed was used to being responsible for himself and his own life. Jon was his responsibility as well, but it was time for the little brother to start learning to be independent of both his father and his brother. As for his mother, she was gone to that place where their father said she was cared for.

Jed never saw his father physically attack her, but then he wasn’t home with her all the time. The end result of the marriage was a set of parents who had no use for him and concentrated any affection they could gather on his little brother, a boy who was blessedly average. Jon was not any kind of competition for his father and therefore not worthy of jealousy. Jed was the one their father feared.

Right now, the easiest way to avoid conversation about the situation was to close his one working eye and feign sleep. He’d never before been in such deep physical and emotional pain. His father tried to murder him. The depth of hate required to do that made Jed feel worthless, useless, and less than less. His mind didn’t matter. It did him no good at all. The grades and accolades that went with his test scores did nothing. Those who should have cared didn’t.

Jed sank into a well of loneliness. Leo was a friend, but with this last morning of torture, he opted to stop trying to have friends. They didn’t deserve being sucked into his life.

Mrs. Landingham would be harder to turn away. She wasn’t a guy. She was a woman who made him wonder what it would be like to have a real mother, a real sister, someone who would understand his occasional need to cry and feel sorry for himself and then kick him in the butt and tell him to move on.

He was alone and his choice of career was perfect. The priesthood called and celibacy allowed him to avoid relationships with everyone except God.

His phony sleep turned real and he gave up to the exhaustion of body and spirit. It was almost with sadness that he realized he was going to survive. A hollow heartbeat just proved he was a shell of a human being.

A week later, he was tucked into bed at the Landinghams’ house. Their sons were off to college and the room was made into a hospital ward for Jed. His wounds were healing well. Even the lashes scarring his back closed up nicely. The stitches would be coming out soon, but the marks would remain. His dialysis was scheduled. He’d go through three weeks and it would be over. The medical stuff would pass and get forgotten as much as it could. Jed’s life would continue.

Leo came by daily. His fury hadn’t dissipated and he started to turn it toward Jed. “You have to get out of here. You could get a scholarship to anywhere. Leave this hellhole.”

Jed told him what he'd told him before. "I'm too young for college. No one would admit me and my. . . I'm too young."

“Eventually. I want to go to Michigan, but until then, I’m enlisting in the Air Force. I want to be a pilot.”

“I know you do, but you have to know that we’re getting more involved in Southeast Asia. You could be sent to war.”

“I know, but I want to fly. Maybe I could be an astronaut. Man, flying to the outer space would be a trip. I want to try and do it.”

Jed was going to lose his only real friend to wonderful ambitions, reasons why he loved Leo like a brother. This was a kid who saw potential in his life and in his world. Jed admired that and could only sigh and smile. “You’ll do it, Leo. Nothing can stop you. I’ll be there in Florida when you take off.”

The potential for Jed’s father to actually achieve the goal of murdering his son preyed on Leo’s mind. “I’m going to hold you to that. You can’t let the bastard win. I don’t make friends easy and you’re about the only one I have.”

“Same for me.” He had to let reality sound out. “I’ll miss you. You have to do this, but I’ll miss you. Promise you’ll write.”

“You, too.”

Jed took a deep breath and it wasn’t such a good idea. The groan from his lungs told his friend that the healing process was far from over. Like an older, caring brother, Leo took Jed’s hand. “You okay?”

After trying to settle the pain, Jed worked at putting the ache aside. “I will be.” Suddenly everything hurt again. The arm, the shoulder, the eye, the leg, the torso, the everything and he was about to vomit. “Get Mrs. Landingham. I’m going to throw up.”

Leo ran out calling for help. “He’s going to barf!”

As Mrs. Landingham came in, Jed lost control and spewed. The actual act was less problematic than the pain it caused. It made his body spasm and that ruined the rest of the day. He’d be too tired to do anything, but sleep. This healing stuff was hard. The sounds of near agony couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t the picture he wanted to present, but there was no choice.

Mrs. Landingham had a damp, cool cloth and wiped his sweating face. “It’s okay, Jed. It’s okay. It’s not an issue. We’ll get you cleaned up and change the sheets. No need for you to be uncomfortable.”

Jed was still working on keeping his gut from seizing. Leo was the one who put words to the lady’s actions. “You’re amazing. If we got sick, my sister and I fended for ourselves.” The kind woman didn’t see how that could be, but after watching the hell of Jed Bartlet, she believed anything was possible now.

“Mothers are immune to this. You learn to deal with whatever. I have my boys, you know. They did their fair share of throwing up and getting bruised. It goes along with being a parent.”

Jed was catching his breath, but found enough air to say, “Not for every parent.”

As she was helping get the dirty pajama top off Jed, she said to both boys. “Just remember, you get to choose what kind of parent you’ll be. The things you’ve gone through don’t dictate how you’ll behave. You both have fine minds and you both know what is right and what is wrong. I hear that either of you haven’t learned the right lessons and you’ll hear from me. Understand?” Both boys nodded.

She helped Jed go from the bed to a chair. “Leo, there are clean sheets in the linen closet. Please get me a set.” Leo left the room. “As for you, Jed, you’re the one I expect the most from. If you learn anything from your father’s abuse, learn this. Your mind is unique and you’re destined for greatness. That’s why he hurts you. It’s jealousy. So, each of those marks on you is validation that you are a once in a generation human being and you will make your own marks on the world. Just be sure those marks are positive. I’ll haunt you if they’re not.”

Jed laughed and shivered a little. No blankets and a bare chest made the air feel nippy. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing.” There was a lot more to say, but for a person for whom words were strength, he found none to express what he felt. Aside from the medical attention, she was teaching him his value to the world and how a real man behaved. In the long run, those lessons would be the ones he truly needed.

“I’m just glad we were here for you. Henry is really enjoying having another young boy in the house.” The sheets were clean now and Jed’s time in the chair was done. He could barely hold himself upright. Mrs. Landingham petted his unruly hair. “You need something to eat. How about some broth?”

He gingerly helped his broken leg onto the bed. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure it will stay down and throwing up hurts and makes me too tired.”

Her hands touched his still raw back. “I have to check these stitches for infection. You ready?” He sighed and she pulled off the bandages. Each tug hurt, but he wasn’t going to be a baby. The wounds were still fresh and those not stitched closed could still be found bleeding just a little. Her fingers spread on the antibiotic ointment and she was happy her face didn’t confront his.

The villainy behind the lashes brought tears to her eyes, but she couldn’t let Jed see that. She wouldn’t let him see how much pity her soul felt for him. This boy had to learn strength and independence. Pity did not serve him. “Doesn’t look like there’s any infection, but they’re still pretty open. Must hurt a lot.”

He let her hands soothe him. “I’ll be okay in a few weeks. I’ll be back at school.”

“As long as the doctor says it’s okay.” She touched his shoulder. “Is this any better?”

“Yeah, but I can’t move it very much. I guess my dream of professional baseball is over.” He smiled at her.”

“Oh, I think that was over when you were born. You have gifts, Jed, but size and athletic ability aren’t high on the list.”

“My skill set had to include ancient languages instead of baseball. Not a lot of call for competitive Latin.”

“You’re going to be more important than a baseball player. Learn who you are and what you’re capable of achieving. Don’t learn limits. Learn how to destroy them. You are limitless, Jed.”

“I don’t want to be anyone special. I want to be a parish priest like Fr. Cavanaugh. That’s a good life. He’s a good man.”

“Yes, he is, but he’s not you.” She finished tending his cuts and helped put on a clean pajama top. She heard him stifling a yawn. “You’ve had a bit of a day, haven’t you? I think rest is first. I’ll wait on the broth until later. We’ll get some Pepto Bismol in you and hopefully that will keep your food down.”

“I’m really tired, Mrs. Landingham.” She didn’t know the many levels he meant that statement and he was fine with that. It was time to rest, to enjoy this healing process that had him away from his father and brought him to people who might actually like him.

Then again, Leo was going to leave. Alone seemed to be the way he was meant to live his life. As much as he wanted to belong somewhere, he didn’t really see any way for that to happen. He was going to be alone for the rest of his life. Alone and lonely. Now, he was simply going to sleep.

It took six months to fully recover, but his back mended. The eye healed without any permanent damage. His leg still limped a bit, but he didn’t need crutches any more. The bruises were gone and except for the addition of a few worry lines and a new load of scars, Jed was none the worse for his ordeal. Leo left school three weeks before Jed returned to school and his own graduation from prep school would be delayed one more year because he’d missed so many classes.

Jon began to live with his grandparents who disapproved of their son’s method of upbringing. Jon would be safe now. Jed stayed at the farm while his father utilized the small apartment supplied by the school. No one thought much of it.

No one thought much about Jed’s prolonged absence from school. After all, robbers beat him up and left him for dead. He was the headmaster’s kid and a couple of years younger than the rest of his class. In a school where being different wasn’t that cool, Jed simply wasn’t cool and nobody really missed him.

Without a good friend, without a brother, without a caring parent, Jed faded into his brain and became intent on proving his intellect. His father had tried to keep it from the world, but Jed decided it was time to let go. He took extra classes and aced them all. Every Ivy League school wanted him to attend on full scholarship. Pulling away from his father gave him the notoriety he deserved and diminished his father’s importance. Finding his own path became his fight and he would be sure the world knew who he was and that his success was his alone.

Though the hitting didn’t end, Jed was never beaten badly again. The resolve his father tried to kill grew stronger. The ego his father wanted to kill got bigger and he was no one’s shrinking violet. He was going to be exactly what his father wanted to be - arrogant, brilliant, smarter than everyone else and proud of it. In a world that worked hard to beat him down, he refused to belittle his achievements. He was Josiah Edward Bartlet, the highest IQ in the country and, 45 years later, he would talk to kids like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All events in this chapter are based on actual events experienced by a close associate of the author's.


	3. The Television Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jed addresses the nation's children.

CHAPTER THREE - The Television Confession

The television program raising money for Child Abuse Awareness was well on its way. Actors and singers gave short speeches encouraging viewers to support the agencies benefitting from the telethon. Jed, Abbey and the Senior Staff sat in the green room. Jed dressed casually. The unzipped Presidential baseball jacket fit how he wanted to look. Formality was thrown out since he wanted to reach the children more than the parents.

Toby pulled a paper from his pocket. “Sir, I wrote something for you. It’s not long and I think it says what you want to say.”

“You have no clue what I want to say. I’m not even sure.”

Abbey tightened her grasp on his hand. “Say what you want. Be honest and true to yourself. You’ll do fine.”

He shut off from the people in the room. His eyes closed and his mind fled far away. No one could get to him now. He was so far inside his head there would be no communication until he remembered he wasn’t alone. Whatever he was going to say was still hiding among his memories. The only thing people might detect, and only if they knew him extraordinarily well, was a veil of fear, but this fear wouldn’t stop him. It was the kind of fear that spurred him on to crush it.

Josh poured a glass of water. “Mr. President, you want something to drink? It might be good to whet your whistle before you go out there.” He handed Jed the water. The President sipped a little and put the glass on the table. Noting the tiny bit swallowed, Josh asked, “You sure that was enough?”

He stood up and began to pace. “This is a mistake.”

Leo offered, “I can tell them you had to pull out. You got sick or something.”

Jed snapped angrily. “You, you advise but stop trying to make decisions for me. I’m responsible for what I do. No one else. I’m going out there and I don’t have a clue what I’m going to say. Something will come to me and it will be a great failure. Won’t be the first failure I’ve had and won’t be the last, but at the barest minimum it will be honest.”

A young stagehand knocked on the door and called through the door, “Two minutes, Mr. President.”

Abbey went to Jed’s side and straightened out his jacket. “Casual doesn’t mean sloppy. You are President, after all.” Her fingers ran through his hair. She managed to let a few stray hairs dance on his forehead in a way that she loved. “You’ll be as great as you always are. You are remarkable and the world should know that. Go tell them.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him with all the craving she had. “I love you, Jethro.”

He pulled his shoulders back and moved toward the set where he would stand and talk to the camera and to the millions of people watching.

  
The Secret Service was in place. The technicians had everything ready and Jed Bartlet stepped into his place as an announcer said, “We are proud to introduce to you, a staunch advocate for children’s rights, the President of the United States, Josiah Edward Bartlet!” Applause, applause and the President began to speak.

“My name is Jed Bartlet. There are a lot of great things in my life. I’m President of the United States. I earned a doctorate in economics and got a Nobel Prize for my work. Yeah, economics sounds pretty boring, but I like it. I like numbers.

“I have a beautiful and brilliant wife named Abbey. She’s a doctor. We have three daughters and I’m really proud of them. I’m even a grandfather. So, my life is pretty good. I want all of you kids out there, all of you dealing with abuse, to have a life like mine.

“Right now, I bet you’re thinking a life like mine can’t happen for you. You get hit or hurt and just living through it seems impossible. I know it’s not easy. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do, but it is possible to become the you that was meant to be. I know.

“I know you stay away from having friends because you don’t want anyone to see how you got those bruises. I know. You want to go swimming, but then they’d see the marks. I know. Crying doesn’t seem to help. In fact, it can sometimes make the hurting come more often and harder. I know.”

  
Abbey watched and realized he was relating his young life for the first time. She reached out and took CJ’s hand. The Press Secretary took it and the two women listened to words they never expected to hear.

He kept going. “Your friends, if you have any, don’t come to your house especially when your abuser is home. I know. Try as hard as you can, but your grades aren’t good enough and whether you get straight ‘A’s or fail each class, it won’t matter,” he stared at his closed fist in front of him, “because he doesn’t need a reason to hurt you. I know. The reasons thrown at you don’t make sense anyhow except for one. It has to be your fault. No one hits another person for no reason. It has to be your fault. I know.”

  
The catch in his voice was huge but he stayed on track. “I know and if I were really brave,” he stopped, took a deep breath and said, “I’d show you the scars I still have on my back from when my father," he stammered the rest, "took a whip to me, but I’m too ashamed.” His eyes parted from the camera and stared down. “There’s no reason for me to be ashamed, but I am.”

  
He wanted to tell them how to get out of it like he never did. “I’m here to tell you that there are things you can do. As hard as it is, talk to a teacher, your principal, a social worker, a mom or dad of a friend. I didn’t do that and my father never stopped hitting me.”

A small grimace showed as a remembered attack returned to torment him. “There is greatness in each of you and you can make that greatness shine, but you need help. I had one friend and one adult in my life who took care of me when my father . . .” His words stopped suddenly. Some things were still unable to be spoken. After a deep breath, he added, “I couldn’t get free from my father alone. Don’t expect yourself to be able to either.” He pleaded, “Look for help and don’t stop until you find that person who will fight for you, fight FOR you.”

Jed had to stop again and gather whatever kind of courage it took to continue. “It hurts and the nightmares may seem to never stop. You think no one could ever love someone like you. You start to believe it so hard that you turn away from people. I know. I didn’t think the girl I married, that Abbey could love me. I almost walked away, but she helped me discover who I could be. I know. People are out there for you like Abbey, Leo and Dolores were for me. Don’t give up. Getting help is the strongest and scariest thing you can do. I know. You have to start talking as soon as you feel you can. Talk and talk and talk. I know I waited way too long and he almost killed me. Talking and trusting good people made it possible for me to start believing in myself. These people are out there. They can help you, too. I know. And now I’m President of the United States. Yeah, I know. I know. And now you know, too.”

He smiled sadly, turned his head down and signaled that he was done. “Thank you and goodnight.”

The camera settled on the announcer, but he, like almost everyone listening, was stunned unto silence. The President was a battered child and told his story.

Jed looked over at Abbey who was crying in deep sobs. He took her in his arms. “It was a big mistake, wasn’t it?” His physical strength was nearly back but leaning on her helped support his psyche. They made their way toward the senior staff. Her tears wouldn’t stop. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“Oh, God, Jed. I have never been more proud of you. Not even Inauguration Day.”

They approached Senior Staff. All of them had mouths hanging open. Even Toby who didn’t let emotions show had his eyes to the ground wanting to let loose tears. Josh was shaking his head and broke the silence. “Well, I’m going to copyright ‘I know’ for the tee-shirt sales.”

Jed had to laugh. “I always thought the tee-shirts would say ‘what’s next?’ or ‘break’s over.’”

He was tired and Abbey finally noticed perspiration gathering on his forehead. “We have to get you back in bed. You need those IVs.”

Ron Butterfield stood within arm’s length of his charge. The agent was not going to let the President fall, not after that performance. “Sir, if you want help, just tell me. We’ll get you into the car and back to the White House.”

Jed nodded and while he saw the admiration of the people around him, he felt degradation and shame.

He and Abbey moved slowly to the motorcade waiting for them. Abbey’s tears ended and her pride in him carried her on air. “Jed, you were magnificent. The girls are going to be so proud.”

“Of what? Don’t make this bigger than it was. It took me almost half a century to admit my father hated me so much that he wanted me dead.”  
She smiled and used the phrase that would be his legacy. “I know.”

Jed didn’t really hear her. His belly was churning. “I don’t feel well, Abbey. My stomach isn’t . . .” Ron overheard and put his arm around Jed’s shoulder carrying him along much faster than he could make it on his own. They got into the car where another agent was prepared with a bag. Jed was seated in the back when Abbey grabbed the bag and got it to his face as he vomited. “It’s okay, Babe. It’s been a hard night. Just get it all out. You’ll feel better.”

He didn’t need encouragement. His gut was clutching too hard for him to stop. When he did, his body went limp and he breathed heavily. “What did I just do? Oh, God, what did I do?”

The limousine traveled to the White House at breakneck speed as was the right of a Presidential motorcade. The President’s doctor, Admiral Jarvis, waited at the entrance. An exhausted Jed was assisted to the Residence. Abbey wasn’t sure how much of his exhaustion was situational and how much was MS.

She and Charlie helped the President change into pajamas and crawl into bed. Admiral Jarvis connected IVs and added some Compazine to help stop the vomiting. Jed didn’t look good. Once hooked up to his medications, he was left alone with Abbey and Charlie watching him rest and he’d, hopefully, wake up in the morning feeling well and able.

The senior staff gathered in the Mural Room. The quiet was atypical. The usual constant patter was overpowered by what they witnessed. Their President, the man they thought they knew, just surprised the world and they were going to have to deal with the ramifications.

CJ leaned back in her chair. “Okay, who knew this little piece of Presidential trivia before tonight? Is this another MS reveal thing?”

Leo interrupted. “Abbey knew. I was there when his father beat the shit out of him. Mrs. Landingham knew, but before his admission tonight, only Toby knew.”

All eyes stared at him. “I figured it out. He behaved like someone with a big secret. His MS was out, it had to be something else at least that big. It just made sense that it was his father, but I didn’t know how bad until yesterday. The asshole whipped him.”

Josh was incredulous. “Leo, did his father really whip him?” The lack of an answer eloquently answered him. “And he still has the scars?”

Toby looked embarrassed. “I made him show me. The bullet from Rosslyn looks like a mosquito bite in comparison. I don’t know how we never saw them before.”

CJ smirked. “You spend a lot of time with the President when he’s shirtless?”

Toby added his own sarcasm. “Yeah, hours and hours.” His frustration was starting to show. “We have a situation to handle here. I don’t think he wants his Presidency defined by child abuse. What he did tonight was remarkably memorable, but his legacy should be about Presidential achievement like the North Korea Summit, the Middle East Peace Accord, repairing Social Security. Those are the things that make him one of the most influential Presidents in history.”

Trying to change the subject, Will had to ask. “Did you write that speech he gave tonight? It was amazing.”

Toby told them all, “I offered to, but he decided to go extemporaneous. He improvised those remarks and it will be the speech he’s remembered for.”

CJ sighed. “Yeah, and the press will be wanting a go at him. I’d like to schedule a press conference as soon as I can. They’ll want to hear from the source. I won’t be enough and I can’t blame them. He created a movement tonight. ‘I know’ is going to become his motto. Josh was joking before, but I’m sure somewhere some company is printing up ‘I know’ tee shirts.”

“Who said I was kidding? We have to get the Art Department on it tonight. We got to get the PR department in, too.” Josh started bouncing. “This is huge. This is so huge.”

Leo had been almost too quiet. “Just remember one thing. The President is dealing with the effects of his father’s abuse. It took him years to admit this. He’s not going to get through this easily. He won’t want to go out on tour. He’ll want it to be over and done with.”

She jotted down some notes, “Well, too bad. He’s made that impossible. Leo, this is not over with. It’s just begun and he has to realize that as soon as possible. Our staff meeting tomorrow morning has to be about tonight.”

Leo smiled just a bit and said, “I know.”


	4. The Group's Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the next morning and plans have to be made.

CHAPTER FOUR - The Group’s Reaction

Abbey and Charlie traded sleeping and the night went blessedly quietly. In order to rally, Jed needed that sleep and the extra medications. Looking at his face and body, Abbey was fairly certain that morning would bring a renewed President, at least physically. Emotionally would be a different battle and one she was sure Jed would ignore. He’d bury the confession and her first call in the morning was going to be to Stanley Keyworth. The psychiatrist already knew some of the story and now he’d know a lot more.

Dawn showed up as usual. Jed woke. Charlie was gone and Jed found Abbey asleep in the chair next to the bed. Then he remembered why. The night before had been memorable and now he had to face the ramifications of his confession.

The morning inventory told him his legs didn’t hurt. His hands weren’t numb. Both eyes were working properly. He got up and made his way into the bathroom for a nice hot shower, glad that his body wouldn’t betray him this day. Since it was Saturday, he dressed casually in jeans and a Notre Dame sweatshirt. He had to laugh a little at his array of Notre Dame wear. Since he won the Nobel Prize, the school sent him boxes of new sweats each year. It got to be a joke and someday he was going to break with tradition and wear a sweatshirt from Dartmouth, the Ivy League school he taught at, but not today. There would be enough controversy and he wanted to concentrate on handling his confession.

  
He banged his knee against the end table and an annoyed ouch rang out waking Abbey. “You okay, Jed? How are you feeling?”

He leaned over to kiss her. “You should have gotten in bed. Sleeping in a chair isn’t very good.”

She stretched and he watched her maneuver her shoulders and legs. It bordered on being very sexy and he sighed with the knowledge that it was not the right time.

Abbey yawned and asked again, “You never answered me. Are you okay?”

“Well, MS hasn’t made an appearance which is good. I’m a bit worried about what the press will have to say today. I’m glad it’s Saturday. We have two days for the story to die down.”

Abbey moved the chair back where it belonged. “Oh yeah. The President admits to being nearly killed by his father on national television - that’s not newsworthy at all.” She walked up to him, putting her arms around him. “We’re in for it, but I’m glad it’s out and you can start dealing with it now.” Her lips found his and the kiss was profound. When she separated from him, she looked into his deep blue eyes. “I never doubted your courage, but last night you proved it to the world. More importantly, you proved it to those children who are suffering like you did.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “You are my husband and I am so proud of you.”

He still saw nothing to be proud of. “All I did was survive. I never tried to stop him. I let him beat me. What’s to be proud of?”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “There’s still a lot of work for you to do but opening up about it all was a magnificent beginning.” She separated from him. “Now, my turn to shower. We’ll grab some breakfast.”

Half an hour later, they sat together in the Residence kitchen. Abbey scrambled some eggs, cooked some sausage and toasted English muffins. They ate in silent thought trying to imagine what was ahead. They finished and Jed was cleaning off the table when there was a knock at the door.

Leo entered with CJ and Josh in tow. “You look good, rested.”

Abbey smiled. “He slept really well and no MS symptoms this morning.”

Josh walked around the room saying nothing but pacing with a bit of nerves. Jed watched him stop at the window and stare out. “You okay, Josh? You’re a bit subdued for you.”

“I’m okay.”

Leo interrupted. “Actually, he’s not. None of us are, sir. They all want to talk to you about your father.”

Jed tensed up realizing that his emotions gripped his soul a little too tightly. “I’m not sure I can do that. I’m used to going to confession in front of a priest, not a committee.”

Abbey took Jed’s hand and faced Leo. “Don’t push too hard. Give us time.”

CJ looked to the floor. “The press is pushing like you wouldn’t believe. I have three times as many reporters here than I usually have on a big news day and it’s Saturday morning. I think we need to have a serious talk about handling this so that you stay safe and the press develops the sense to let you alone.”

Her protective nature jumped in and Abbey railed. “You really think they’ll develop sense? This is soap opera for them. They don’t realize that children go through this kind of agony.”

CJ added, “And this is going to be just the kind of thing they like. The press won’t leave it alone unless we pick and choose the reporters and even then, the rest of them will think we’re paying people off. We’re in a no-win situation. A lot of people won’t believe the truth and that we’re using abuse to boost his approval ratings.”

Jed’s rancor was growing. “Using it? How the hell have I used this?”

It was Josh who had the courage to say, “You got a motto now. ‘I know’ is already showing up as graffiti. We talked about it last night, but this admission will define you as a President.”

The horror in his eyes was obvious to the room. “I don’t want to be defined by my father. The whole point is to get past his definition.”

Leo and the rest of the room worked at maintaining the silence. Finally, Jed broke it by saying, “Meet in the Mural Room in an hour. I’m calling Stanley and asking him to join us, but we have to work through this ourselves before we go to the press.”

Abbey embraced him and he felt uncomfortable. “I’m not going to break, Abbey. Let’s try to keep this discussion on the normal side. We’ll meet in one hour and now everyone get out of here.”

Staff left Jed and Abbey alone. Then Jed kissed Abbey’s forehead and he walked to his library. The phone call to Stanley would be private in case he turned into mental sludge over the situation. He’d forgotten that his father’s photograph was on display. The older man’s stern, unforgiving gaze still made him breathe heavily. He wanted to throw the photo across the room shattering the glass making a significant tear cutting across the man’s face, but that was storybook. Instead, he opened the small drawer in the lamp table and pushed the picture inside face up closing the drawer slowly and carefully.

He mumbled to himself. “Tell someone and it will get better. How did that work out for me? I told those kids a lie. It doesn’t get better at all. I told them a lie.”

It all seemed like he should be shedding copious tears, but there weren’t any. The confession about his father drained self-pity and fed rage. Mostly the rage was against himself. His father may have been the one brutalizing him, but he brought on this new onslaught. The biggest of the “w” questions kept running through his head. Why didn’t he say anything? Why? It was his fault now and figuring out how to contend with the consequences was his responsibility.

Abbey let him have some time alone knowing this day would be one of his most difficult. She contacted their daughters just to let them know their father was feeling better physically. All three were going to be at the White House later that day. Their pride in his actions shone, but Abbey warned them. Each child was told, “Your father will not want to be considered heroic in this. Don’t tell him he is. Let him determine the path we go down and, no, I have no idea what that path looks like, I don’t think he does either.”

The door to their suite opened and Jed walked in as Abbey hung up with Zoey. “That was your baby. She’s coming here later today, around two or three.”

“I don’t want this being made into something bigger than what it already is.”

“Too bad. I have a feeling this is going to snowball and we won’t reach the apex for a few weeks at least.”

He shuddered. “Weeks? It can’t be that interesting.”

“You underestimate the curiosity of the average person. The world just found out the President of the States was a battered child. They won’t let go of this. The dam was cracked open last night. It’s going to burst and when it does, well.”

There was nothing more to say because she couldn’t pretend to imagine what the aftermath would be. His broad shoulders sagged under the weight of the implications. His eyes closed. His chin dropped. “Let’s go. At least this first group will be supportive, I hope.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the Mural Room and found a slightly larger group than anticipated. Everyone stood in respect for the office. Stanley Keyworth, Charlie, the President’s secretary Debbie Fiderer and Josh’s assistant Donna Moss waited along with Leo, Toby, Josh and CJ. It made sense to Jed, but the group was bigger than he wanted. “Our number has increased.”

Charlie asked, “Would you prefer if I wasn’t here?”

“If have to face this and I’d rather have a strong team behind me.”

Donna rubbed her hand over her eye. “Sir, would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” There were ice water pitchers on the table.

“The water is fine.” Everyone was still standing. “Please sit down. We’re going to get into some personal stuff here and formality doesn’t lend itself to the situation.” As they sat, he  
continued, “Who’s going to chair this meeting?”

A chorus of “You, sir” erupted from nearly everyone. Leo remained quiet.

Jed kept Abbey’s hand in his as he began, “We have a situation in front of us. Most of you didn’t know about my father until yesterday and it was intended for you never to know. Leo was there for the worst of it, so he’s known for decades. Toby figured it out a few months before the last election but said nothing out of respect for me ~ I hope. Obviously, Abbey has known. I never said anything to my daughters, but like Toby, they figured it out. We were a small group, but my actions last night increased the size of that group.”  
CJ interjected, “By millions and millions.” All eyes stared at her. “Sorry.”

The silence palpated. Abbey made the next decision. “I’m sure all of you have questions. Why don’t we start with answering those and any question is okay to ask. I don’t think there are any barriers here we have to worry about.”

It took a slew of deep breaths, but finally, with true empathy Donna asked, “Why didn’t you tell anyone? You said to the kids they had to tell someone.”  
“Let me ask you all something first.” Jed looked around, his gaze ending with Leo. “Leo and I have experience with parents who weren’t shining examples. How about the rest of you? Any of you have abuse of any kind in your history? I don’t want to know what it is, but I want to know if it’s there.”

Only Charlie spoke up. “I never knew my father, so I’m not sure. I guess walking out on us was abusive, but that’s all.”

Jed loved this young man and said, “It was his loss, Charlie. My gain, but his loss.” He looked around again. “Anyone else?” There were no answers. “So, either some of you are lying or you were all luckier than Leo and me. We’ll leave it at luck.”

Donna asked again, “Why didn’t you tell? You’re so smart. You had to know that telling would stop it all.”

“Yeah, telling would have stopped it - maybe.” He hesitated. “I can’t give you a good reason, Donna, except for being ashamed. My father was the headmaster at a prestigious prep school. I thought if he was hitting me, then I probably deserved it. I didn’t understand why, but I probably deserved it.”

CJ was livid. “He took a horsewhip to you. What could you have done to deserve that? It was totally inexcusable. He had no right.”

Debbie joined in. “He had no right to be a parent. He used you and you were a kid. You didn’t tell because back then, no kid admitted to abuse. You were his whipping boy, literally.”

Jed said nothing. He was starting to feel like he was 12 years old again and he was being blamed for something he didn’t do. “Better me than Jon.”

Abbey filled in some detail. “Jon was never abused by his father. Jed’s mother was though we don’t know exactly what he did to her. Seems like Jed was his father’s special little project.”

“Is that why Jon was raised by his grandparents?” Josh had spent time with Jon on the campaign trail and had some info the others didn’t. “He told me that when he was about 10, he went to live with them and the President stayed with his father.”

“I stayed at the farm and my father moved to the apartment at the school.”

Donna moved to a seat closer to the President. Admiringly she stated, “You stayed behind for your brother. You were afraid he’d start to beat on Jon, weren’t you?”

“It was a concern, but mostly I was glad I didn’t have to worry about him. Our grandparents, my father’s parents were terrific people, but they didn’t want to tarnish the Bartlet name and my father would do that.”

Abbey poured a glass of water and handed it to her husband. “Jed used to make dinner, do laundry, all the stuff a parent does to run a household. Jed’s father took all his physical anger out on Jed. That doesn’t mean the beatings didn’t affect Jon. He was constantly afraid he’d be next. Eventually, Jon went to live with his grandparents and that issue was solved.”

Stanley added, “And hating himself for being grateful it wasn’t him.” He offered more. “I’ve spoken to Jon. At the President’s suggestion, I called him this morning. I’m not breaking confidence. I have his permission to represent him as best I can.”

Donna continued. “How old were you when he almost killed you?”

“Thirteen.”

Leo’s head flipped up startled. “You were 15.”

It was another lie. “I was 13. I told you I was older because you liked me. I was the school runt. Being 15 helped keep me from being picked on more than I was already. I was small and smart. Not a good combination for prep school snobs.” He smiled at Leo. “You weren’t liked any more than I was. I wanted a friend and you were good to me. I thought if you knew I was that young, you’d think I wasn’t worth your time.”

“Did Mrs. Landingham know how old you were?”

“Of course, she did. She had access to all our records.”

Leo’s heartbreak was obvious. “I ran away from that school. I left you there and you were only 13.”

The revelation of his real age didn’t seem to be a big deal to him. “Thirteen, 15. What’s the difference? He hit me before you came and hit me after you left. You think you had anything to do with it?”

Stanley interrupted again. “Leo, the dynamic between the President and his father had nothing to do with you. His age didn’t matter.”

“I was 18. I could have taken him with me and gotten him out of there.”

Jed hated that again Leo was taking blame for something he couldn’t help. “Leo, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d have jailed you for kidnapping. Then what?”

“The bastard whipped you. He nearly blinded you. Your damn arm is three inches short because he ripped it out so much.”

Angrily, Jed barked, “I was fucking there! You saw some of it, but it started years before you showed up and didn’t end until after I married Abbey.”

Abbey knew he was saying things he didn’t want to say. “Stop. Jed.”

Leo had to keep going though. His fury wasn’t going to be stopped. “Yeah, I remember. Abbey, you were pregnant and his father didn’t like it, so he went after you.”

Jed tried to stop him. “It doesn’t matter, Leo.”

Leo didn’t hear and just kept going. “What was it then? A cracked vertebra?”

Debbie mumbled, “That explains the back pain.”

Jed swallowed the panic in his gut. “Could have been worse. It all could have been worse.”

Leo wanted to be in control but was losing it rapidly. “Even with the sodomy?”

After regaining his composure, he met Leo’s eyes. “You done? What’s left to tell them? God, I can’t even keep that private.” He fumed, “Leo, I thought we were going to try to figure out how to handle the publicity, not get into all the sordid details.” His gut was churning. He found Abbey’s eyes and said, “I let loose an avalanche and it’s going to bury me.”

“I’m right here, Jed. We’ll get through it.”

Jed’s hands went to his face trying to entomb the memory and the knowledge of his rape. “Everything will get out. Records will be found. Medical records that no one looked for before will be found. This is my Presidency now.”

Donna reached over and touched his knee. “No one will say a word.”

Toby rebutted, “We have the International Global Warming Consortium coming up. We’ll push that and your recommendations for decreasing greenhouse gases. We won’t let you be defined by your father. You worked your entire life to become who you are. We won’t let that be lost. I swear to God, we won’t.” The wrath inside his demeanor astounded the room. Toby turned into an armed guard at the castle gate. He noticed the reaction from the room. “China, North Korea, the Middle East, Social Security, and we’re going to let abuse define him? Hell, no. It’s up to us to show the world what he’s accomplished. All we have to do is let Bartlet be Bartlet. This abuse shit can’t be his legacy. I’m not going to let it.”

CJ, understanding the press better than the rest of them, added, “But right now, it’s what people want to know about. We have to design a spin that says ‘yeah, he was abused, but that didn’t stop him from being able to create a China Summit.’ We don’t say ‘even though he was abused, look what he did.’ Josiah Bartlet is a great American and the world benefits from his Presidency, from who he is and that includes what he’s experienced. All of it including being a husband and father and friend and teacher and Nobel Prize winner, a monogamous man of faith who practices what he preaches.”

Jed turned to Abbey. “Sounds like a eulogy. I killed my Presidency.”

Debbie sat quietly, far too quietly for her usual self. “Sir, your Presidency isn’t dead. It’s taken a kick in the balls, but it’s not dead.”

He started laughing. “God bless you, Debbie.” The glass of water in front of him was emptied in one long gulp. “CJ, how do we handle the press?”

Not wanting to say it, she stumbled, “I think the press will ask for more proof than simply your word. They’ll want validation of your speech.”

Josh shook his head. “How do we do that?” Being facetious, he added, “Photos of the scars?” The pause from CJ had Josh nervous. “You don’t really want that, do you, CJ?”

Stanley had to agree. “You’re forgetting that the President is still in recovery from the abuse he went through. I don’t care how long ago it was. He has to do some work in order to handle all this. Don’t push.”

CJ understood, but again, she also understood the press. “They will dig further and harder if we don’t give them what they want. I think we need to get and control the release of the hospital records. Can we find some witnesses who can verify that he still bears the marks?” Jed’s rugged complexion paled. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s going to be hell for a few days which is really a lie. It won’t be over for a while, weeks. Maybe even longer. They will want proof.”

Abbey took Jed’s hand and brought it to her face, kissing his fingers. “Sweetheart, Leo has seen the scars. You showed Toby the scars. He didn’t run away. These people care for you. Let them see. Then they’ll know the truth and they can speak about it without any spin. Show them.”

Jed didn’t want to. Tension tightened every nerve ending. His breathing became harsh and while he promised he would not let a tear fall, his eyes fought the notion. The press won the round. Standing up, he pulled off his sweatshirt and the tee underneath.

One by one, except for Leo and Toby, they approached their President and saw the horrifying proof of torture left on a boy’s body, apparent years later. Donna openly cried and somehow found the courage to touch one ridge that crossed from his left shoulder to the edge of the scar made by Rosslyn’s bullet. She didn’t try to stop the tears when she faced Jed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You had nothing to do with this.”

“I’m sorry it happened to you, happened to anyone. I didn’t think people could be this cruel. You were a boy, the smartest boy in America and he did these things to you. Charlie says it all the time, that you’re his hero. Well, you’re mine now, too.”

“Donna, I don’t want to be a hero. It’s hard enough to be me without living up to someone else’s ideas.”

Leo slowly made his way toward his best friend. “Jed, get used to it. I was the first member of that club decades ago.” His arms embraced the President and he unashamedly cried. “I shouldn’t have left to go and enlist. You needed me and I deserted you to that hellhole.”

Jed separated from Leo. “You never deserted me. That’s not what you do.” He smiled. “You are the best friend I’ve ever had,” pointing to Abbey while wearing a generous smile, “Except for her and she’s a lot prettier.” The air was getting chilly. “Now, let me get dressed before I freeze to death.”

Abbey grabbed his clothes and helped. She told them all, “I think I may be done for the day. I’d like to get back to the Residence and just relax. Jed, you want to come with me?”

CJ stopped his answer. “Wait, there’s one more thing I want to talk about and I hate this so bad.” Jed didn’t answer, but waited for her to continue. “Earlier, you said he nearly killed you and that he sodomized you. It’s going to be in the medical records. Can you tell me about that?”

Abbey jumped in to save her husband. “Please, don’t, CJ. Please.”

He gave up on the idea of privacy. “They’ll find out in the medical records.” It took several seconds for him to be able to continue. “I can’t say complete sentences here.” His stuttering speech was solely “uh” and “um,” repeated in terror. He stared into the floor. Not at it, but into it as if the revulsive act broadcast to his mind’s eye. “. . . handle, an axe handle.”

His body visibly trembled. He was done for the day. For the first time, a tear slid down his cheek. Abbey handed him a tissue and told the group. “Enough. We’ll be in the Residence unless India decides to invade Pakistan again.”

The President agreed. “CJ, if you want to talk more, wait a few hours, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

The First Couple exited the room leaving the group sickened and yet strengthened in their resolve to support their President. Stanley could see his work was also just beginning. “I will be available to all of you for the week. Debbie will find a spare room for me and you’re always welcome.”

Donna nodded and said, “I’ll probably come down at least once a day. He’s so scarred. If I didn’t see it, I couldn’t have imagined it.”

“Touching the scar,” Stanley stated, “was very brave. It was good for him to have you touch it and not be repelled.”

“I’m repelled by his father, not him.”

Josh put his arm around his assistant. “We all are.”

Leo, in keeping with his position, took charge. “Josh, the hospital we took him to,” his mind switched gears when he mumbled, “At age 13, was Manchester General. I want a copy of all his medical files by five o’clock and I want the originals removed from their master files and locked away in perpetuity. Get Ron to assign some agents to help.”  
“Got it.” Moving toward the exit he instructed, “Donna, get the hospital administrator on the telephone immediately.” They walked out together.

CJ said, “I need a statement for the gaggle. Even if it’s to put them off until later.”

“Toby’ll write that, but it’s going to be obtuse until we get that report”

Leo sent them on their way. “Debbie, call the Copyright Office and get ‘I know’ and ‘And now you know’ copyrighted ASAP.” That left Stanley, Leo and Charlie alone. “You be his Body Man. He and Abbey may need you more than they think they do.”

“Yes, sir.” He hesitated before saying, “You can’t be putting any blame on yourself. It all drops on his father.”

“I didn’t hit him, Charlie, but I left him there when I knew it would happen again. I have to live with that. He was only 13 years old.” It was his turn to exit.  
Charlie now worried about Leo. Stanley assured him. “I’m going to spend some time with him now. He’ll be okay.” And then the Mural Room divested itself of Jed Bartlet fans.


	5. The Initial Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparation for the Press Conference.

CHAPTER FIVE - The Initial Aftermath

Jed lay on the couch in the living room of the Residence, with his head resting on Abbey’s lap. She petted his hair admitting, “We certainly changed our lives.”

“No, we didn’t. He’s still beating me down. Because of him, we’re going through all this.” His next steps had to be brave, but not because he wanted that. “I want to give up but don’t worry, I won’t. But quitting this job, going back to the farm and forgetting politics sounds awfully good.”

“To me, too, but that isn’t your way. You don’t give up.”

“So I’ve been told. Since when do I have to be a hero?” With a smirk, he added, “When is it okay to hide in a corner somewhere and just design emerging economies for countries that don’t exist yet?”

Her hand lingered on his forehead. “You have a fever.”

“It’s just stress. Stanley says stress can cause any number of symptoms.”

“Any other symptoms that you’re not telling me about? How’s your vision?”

“Good enough.” That was the wrong answer and he knew it. “Okay, the right eye again. It hurts a little and my sight isn’t great. Kind of like at the James Taylor concert.”

“At the concert you didn’t have great control of your hands. Your coordination?”

He didn’t move. “Coordination is fine. It’s nothing. My eye does this all the time now. It happens several times a week.” He adjusted his position so he could look up directly at his bride. “I don’t deserve you.”

She rolled her eyes. “There are times when you’re still a little boy. I love the grown up you. The man who makes love to me, that’s the you I want back right now. Little Josiah is a part of who you are, but this whiny shit won’t cut it. You made a decision and it’s going to hurt a lot for a long time, but I refuse to lose you to that bastard. This self-pity will end now.”

“But I feel like a little boy right now. I feel like I’m getting spanked for something I said I didn’t do, but I really did.”

She continued to pet him. “I can baby you now, but not for long. We’re going to have some serious confrontations with the press about your father and what he did. You’re going to need to get more comfortable talking about him and the things done to you. You avoid words especially ones like sodomy.”

His shoulders tensed up. “I can’t talk about that.”

“You’re going to have to and the more you do, the less toxic it will become.”

“I don’t want it less toxic. You don’t understand. It was . . .” He stopped. The words would not come, just as he said. “I’m not going to say another word about any of it. They’ll get the medical records and CJ will run interference. That’s all.”

“The newspapers are already leading with ‘I know.’ You’ve created a movement, Jed. You’re the leader of it. The children who listened to you, who hear about you, are going to want you showing them the possibilities in their lives. CJ, Leo, Toby, me, none of us can do it. It didn’t happen to us. You have a responsibility, one you created for yourself, to follow through for them. You will not let them down. At least, my Jed Bartlet wouldn’t. You still that man?”

He was quiet for a few moments. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

“Well, I am.” She sat him upright. “This is going to be hard for you. The worst of the worst things to happen to a child happened to you. Now you have to stand up to it. You weren’t able to when you were a kid, but you’re President of the United States and it’s an unwritten part of the job description. ‘The President will stand up for any child threatened by any kind of abuse regardless of how badly it may hurt him.”’

“I never read that part of the oath.”

She kissed him passionately. “Read it now, Jethro.” She kissed him again. “Why don’t you go write a short opening for a press conference, one geared to the kids.”

“That might be the tactic to use. What if I addressed this shit but for the children. I talk to them in language they understand - one to one kind of. I can separate the man from the boy.”

She sat back. “I like it, but not for all your addresses. You have to talk to the abusers as well as the children.”

“What could I say to them?”

“That they will not succeed in destroying their prey. That other adults, those like you, who know better, will be watching and prosecution will not be gentle. They’ll get what they deserve.” Her own anger started to surface. “How could a parent beat a child? They won’t respond to treatment. It hasn’t worked in the past. They should be locked up with minimum sentences at least 100 years long.”

The truth about abuse and its ramifications were well known to this President. The scars on his back were frightening reminders, but the scars in his memory were worse. Those scars recalled the hatred in his father’s eyes, pure hatred that stabbed him even harder and more often than the punches. His hands took Abbey’s waist. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. Yes, I know I’m being sappy and sentimental, but I have to be right now. I’m not very sure of myself and my instincts are telling me to hide in the back of my closet.”

She laughed and hugged him. “Can I join you there? I don’t think we’ve initiated the back of your closet yet.”

“Virgin territory?”

She hugged him harder. “You are incorrigible.”

“You like incorrigible.”

Pulling back a little she had a twisted look and asked, “How are you feeling? You’re running a fever. I wasn’t sure before, but I can feel it now.”

“My eye still hurts and I got a headache.”

“Queasy?”

“Always. My stomach hasn’t felt right since that State Dinner for Scotland and they served haggis.”

She made her way to the bathroom. “You’re spending the day in bed.”

Jed tried joking. Resting curled up in blankets with a sexy wife appealed to him. “You coming with me?”

Shaking the thermometer down, she exited the bathroom and checked his forehead. “You really do have a fever. Open up.” He opened his mouth and she placed the thermometer under his tongue. “I’m going to get you some pajamas.” The dresser was in the next room and she left him there.

Resigned to being under her care, a situation he was actually happy with, he relaxed and let the instrument check out the extent of his headache. The ease with which he drifted into sleepy mode was disconcerting, but welcome. His mind started to fill with the previous evening’s speech. He heard himself saying, “I know. I know you stay away from having friends because you don’t want anyone to see how you get those bruises. I know. He doesn’t need a reason to smack you. I know. The reasons don’t make sense anyhow except for one. No one hits another person for no reason. It has to be your fault. I know.

“You think no one could ever love someone like you. I didn’t think Abbey could love me. I almost walked away. I know. It can take a long time to find him or her, but you have to start talking as soon as you feel you can.” The thermometer was now on the end table. He began to recite aloud along with his memory. “Now I’m President of the United States.”

Then he heard his wife quietly say, “I know. And now you know, too.”

Exactly why eluded him, but tears spilled out, streaming silently down his face. His body tightened up and the man finally mourned the loss of the child. “Abbey.”

She touched a tissue to his tears. “It’s about time, Jed. I’ve been waiting for this for over 35 years.” Clean pajamas were put onto the couch.  
“I don’t feel well.”

“No kidding.” She took hold of him and he grabbed onto her hard. “My hero.” He didn’t see them, but her tears ran as swiftly as his. She was truly proud of him and nothing would dim that.

“Okay, let’s see this temp.” She found her glasses and peeked at the glass tube. “Yikes, boy! You’re at 101.7. That’s not stress. Jammies now.”

She stood up and started to unbutton the dark blue pajama top. “I like these pajamas. They make your eyes look even bluer.”

“You always did like blue eyes. Would you still love me if my eyes were brown?” As he stood up, the sweatshirt was deposited on the floor. The tee shirt followed.

Winking, she said a simple, “Brown? No.”

With her toes kicking the discarded shirt, Abbey asked an age-old question. “Why do men think clothes belong on the floor?”

“Because we are Neanderthals,” he grunted, “who are about to throw up.” He stretched out to pick up the small wastebasket and got it to his face. A bit of breakfast was still in his belly. Throwing up took his energy unlike anything else. It normally lasted longer than he felt it should and hurt like someone pounding on his gut, a feeling he related to all too well. Sitting down helped the weakness in his legs, but the vomiting continued.

Abbey picked up the phone. “Please send up the medic on call with some Compazine. The President is running a fever and vomiting.” She listened for a moment. “No, I don’t think there’s anything to be too worried about. He gets these stomach bugs often.” She said good-bye and returned to Jed’s side. “Going to stop soon?”

His breath was short and a bit wheezing. “I don’t think so. Shit, where did this come from?” Abbey left him and returned with a damp washcloth. She wiped his face to cool him down more than anything. “If history repeats, then this upchucking will bring your fever down though I have no idea why. Your body doesn’t work like most bodies do.”

“Should I be concerned?” He tried to smile, but the vomiting started again.

“So long as you keep those navy-blue eyes, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

It took another five minutes until he was done. As usual, his energy was gone and he wanted to sleep. Admiral Jarvis got to his side with medication and all the equipment needed to hang his meds. Tucked into bed, Betaseron, Compazine, and saline flowed through a tube into his body.

Abbey spoke to the Admiral. “Do you think we’re at the point where a port-a-cath would be helpful?”

“I’d have to check his record. Certainly would make things easier for us. Under the clavicle,” he touched an area on the President’s chest. “No one would notice it and the scar would be minimal.”

Jed stared at the man. “You think scars are a problem for me?”

“Jed, stop it.” She just wanted the IV thing to go easier for all. “Check it out and let’s see.”

The Admiral packed up his things and left. Jed didn’t like Abbey’s idea, “That port-a-cath thing means surgery.”

“Out-patient and local anesthetic.” By now, Jed was drifting in and out of sleep. “Get some rest. I’ll have lunch up here when you wake up, okay?” There wasn’t an answer. He was out.

*****

Leo, Josh and CJ sat in Leo’s office. CJ told him, “The gaggle is hounding me. They want to talk to the President. Me spouting off a review of last night isn’t working. It’s going to take Mexico and Canada jointly invading the United States to get their attention. Even then, I’d have to add nuclear weapons from North Korea. Leo, he has to do a press conference and preferably later today or early tomorrow. The longer they don’t have facts, the longer they can dream up their own scenarios.”

“And God knows what they’ll come up with.” Leo wanted to help Jed get through it all. “Would they take me instead?”

“No, sir. He’s got to do it. These kinds of accusations require testimony from the victim.”

Leo trembled at the word. “Don’t let him hear you use the word victim. He’ll go more nuts than he already is.”

“And you can’t be calling him nuts. Sounds like you think he’s mentally ill.”

“I would be.”

Reflecting back, CJ reminded Leo of the respect all the staff felt for the President. “He was difficult as hell to get to know, but we always knew he was a candidate of substance and that he’d work his ass off if we got him in the White House. This new information is going to bring up the MS conceal. The President’s trust level is remarkably high considering the MS conceal.”

Josh was irritated. “Could you stop calling it the ‘conceal’ and concentrate on this new reveal?”

“They’re going to be connected. He hid something from his background that might influence how a person voted.”

“Seriously? You think someone would have voted for Ritchie if they knew he was abused? Come on. No one is that stupid.”

“Changed a vote the other way - voted for him instead of Ritchie because of his past. The Ritchie people and Republicans in general are right now trying to figure out how to use this new information to their benefit.”

“They would politicize this?” Leo, realizing what he’d asked, answered himself. “Of course, they would. So, would we if it was Ritchie. For that matter, how do we know Ritchie wasn’t an abused kid?”

Josh started. “There are certainly plenty of abused kids out there.”

Leo was still confused. His closeness to the President clouded his perspective. “Why should his surviving be role model fodder?”

“Because he’s the President of the United States.” CJ shook her head and smiled. “His is the ultimate fuck you success story.”

Josh joked, “There’s the caption for his tombstone. Here lies the ultimate fuck you success story.”

Leo smiled at him. “You know, I kind of like it.”

CJ knew better. “Don’t tell that to him. That’s what he’ll choose.”

Josh stuck his nose into the conversation a little deeper. “CJ, talk to him and get him out there as soon as you can. The longer he hides from them, the worse it will be. He needs to come out strong and defiant. He needs to show that ‘fuck you’ attitude and tell them he wants to get back to governing.”

Leo added, “While still staying true to this new mission. He can’t turn his back on those kids, now. He has got to be the leader of the pack.”

“I can cover that in the briefing.” She stared at the blank paper in front of her. “I wonder how many other Reps and Senators will admit to their abuse now.”

Stamping his foot, Josh punctuated, “I hope they do. This is a situation we can actually do something about. We have a cause no one can be against. Who’s going to come out for child abuse?”

Leo knew Washington a little better than Josh. “It will be the cost they argue against, Josh.”

“How much is it worth to keep kids from getting scars like he has?” The anger in his heart was breaking through, soon to be exploding throughout the building. “For God’s sake, Leo, you saw those scars when they were fresh. The asshole whipped him. He wants to know what his legacy will be. This is it. It’s pure and simple. Stop beating on children.”

CJ found the counter. “Being abused didn’t stop him. Josh, have your staff do the research. I want statistics.”

Having initiative. Josh had already started. “Four to seven American children die every day from abuse.”

CJ practically shouted. “Seven kids a day! That can’t be.”

Even Leo paled. “Oh, my God and they all think they’re the only ones.”

“Leo, if you count up the number of kids that are abused every day, annually that many kids is about the same as the population of Massachusetts, the entire state.” The pall over the room created a tension. “We got to attack this problem with all we have and it has nothing to do with the President. Six million Americans are being attacked and we don’t even talk about it.”

CJ agreed. “We have to meet with the President this afternoon and get a basic outline of our plans.”

Josh shook his head. “Don’t forget. He is one of those children and his scars are physically and emotionally deep.”

Getting up, CJ moved toward the door. “I’ll go talk to Abbey. She’ll build the walls he’ll need.”

The halls of the White House were decidedly busier than a typical Saturday. The President’s confession brought people in to help curb the backlash. A lot of cliques were talking in hushed tones about their leader’s childhood.

CJ made her way to the Residence and found Abbey in the hallway bringing a tray of lunch into the private rooms. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, no, but you should have called up. I’d have brought you something for lunch.”

“No need. I just stopped by to start the plans for today and tomorrow.”

They got to the door. “Can you open that for me?” They entered. The President was still in bed and starting to wake up. “Jed, CJ is here. Go wash up for lunch.” A cursory wave had him acknowledge CJ and he disappeared into the bathroom.

Abbey put the food tray on a side table and addressed CJ. “He’s running a fever that’s a little high for stress only. He’s also tossing his cookies a bit, so I think it’s a stomach bug. He gets sick so often lately. Ear infections, stomach infections, colds, back problems,” she paused, “and the MS stuff. It’s hard sometimes.”

“It’s going to get harder, Abbey. I asked Charlie not to bring up the newspapers. They are all President Bartlet all the time and all about last night.” She and Abbey sat. “Will he be well enough to handle a press conference later today?”

“Today? Are you kidding? CJ, do you have a clue how monumental this speech last night was for him? For him, not the President.”

“I’m finding out. He did us all very proud. Josh has done some research and we’re very late in coming to this party. He may not want this to be part of his legacy, but it already is. I just want to go over some of the questions he may be asked and a bit on how to phrase his answers. There are ways we can get the focus on the problem and not so much on his experiences, though they’ll hammer him on that.”

Jed was tying the belt on his robe when he approached Abbey and CJ. “How hard will it be to spin this?”

“No spinning, sir. This is an all-out straight truth with no excuses for your father’s behavior. You owe it to the children now.”

He sat across from them. “Good, now’s the time to guilt me.”

“Josh pulled some stats. I think even you’d be surprised. Last year, child abuse racked up a bill of over one billion dollars. Billion with a ‘b’ and it’s going up. Annually, over six million children are reported as abused. You have to figure at least that many aren’t being reported. We’re looking at about 20% of America’s children. Sir, I don’t know how we avoided this issue. It’s horrifying.”

“As I said last night, I know.”

CJ blushed at his answer. Of course, he knew. “I’m sorry, Mr. President. I don’t mean to compare, but this is really hard for all of us as well. You lived through it, but some of us, especially me, had no idea the extent of abuse in this country. Over six million children. Josh said that’s the population of Massachusetts. We would never ignore the pain and suffering of a state full of people.”

“We do it daily, CJ.” He picked up a sandwich from the tray and took a bite. Abbey took the other sandwich. Jed smiled at her. “You make a good tuna salad.”  
A faint air of disgust curled CJ lips and she quivered. “Yuck.”

Abbey told her. “Got to get the imported Italian tuna and forget the mayo. Olive oil, shallots, capers and celery. It makes a really good tuna salad. You sure you don’t want some? It’s good. Take the other half of mine. I’m not going to eat it.”

She picked up the sandwich and Abbey was right. “Much better than mayo and relish. Thanks.” They all took a few seconds to eat. Jed finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “It’s two o’clock now. When do you want me to talk to the press corps?”

“If you’re up to it, at three. Abbey told me you were running a fever. I can brief them on that in an hour and then leave four o’clock open for you with the caveat of the fever. Although if I tell them you’re not feeling well, they’ll spin that on their own.”

“I haven’t felt well since Zoey started liking boys. I’m fine.” He took another bite. “I’ll double down on the Advil.”

Abbey had a question. “The ubiquitous blue suit or the casual Notre Dame wardrobe?”

CJ smiled. “I think he should look Presidential. A suit, but maybe one with a pattern. He has a few striped ones, right? I want him to look a little different, but still serious.”

“I take Notre Dame very seriously.”

The smile got a little bigger. “As well I know, but the different suit will take this out of typical press conference and into newer territory.”

He took a sip of ginger ale. “Are you serious? What I wear makes a difference?”

“Not to everyone, but it will sort of separate the normal you from this new you.”

He heard what she actually did not say. “So, the new me is even less normal than the old me. That’s heartening.”

“Sir,” CJ stumbled over her use of words. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a typical press conference and if what you wear can make that point, then we worry about what you wear. You look good in the striped suit.” She smiled at him. “I think the brown would be good. It picks up the auburn in your hair.”

“You don’t need to pile it on, CJ.”

Abbey had to continue the teasing. “But blue brings out his eyes and he has remarkably blue eyes.”

CJ went along with the bait. “Maybe a blue shirt with a brown tie with blue accents. Leo wears blue with his brown suits all the time. It doesn’t sound like it works, but it does.”

Wardrobe wasn’t on his worry list. “Keep it up and you’ll be lucky if I don’t wear this robe.” He downed the rest of the ginger ale. “Okay, Abbey, can you put together my Presidential, but not normal ensemble for this event. CJ and I will go over some questions.”

Stopping her, CJ suggested, “On the other hand, maybe a jeans-suitcoat thing would work.”

“I’ll get something for him.” She left CJ to prep her husband.

Abbey got up to leave and CJ opened her notebook. “A lot of these, you’re not going to like. We have to figure out here what you’re comfortable answering.”

“That’s easy. None.”

“And you know that won’t happen.”

He crumpled up a paper napkin and pushed the tray to the side. “Start slowly.”

None of this would be starting slowly. “I’ll try, sir, but I don’t know what will trigger your memories. You need to tell me when I go too far.”

“I have a feeling you’ll know.”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THe statistics in this chapter are available online at childhelp.org.


	6. The Press Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The President confronts the press and it goes as well as expected - not that well at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I was hospitalized for polynephritis and ecoli septicemia that came close to killing me. I'm home now and finally able to concentrate for more than five minutes at a time. I will post the next chapter within a week to ten days

CHAPTER SIX - The Press Conference

CJ stood in front of a press room bursting with reporters making standing room only. The sound was pounding. “Please! Please! Quiet down. I will be introducing the President in a few minutes. I want to go over some rules for this press conference.” The room quieted down to where CJ didn’t need to shout. “Thank you. As you know, the President opened up last night to the children of the United States telling them he, like so many of them are, was an abused child. This was something he previously had chosen not to share with anyone including his own children. I have information for you regarding statistics about child abuse in the United States and it is an astounding set of figures. Please remember that abuse haunts children well into adulthood.”

From the back, “CJ, has his abuse influenced his decisions as President?”

“I’m not done, Alan.” The question was one she tried to prepare for. “The President reserves the right to protect his privacy and when he says he won’t answer something, please believe him. Hounding won’t help. He will answer questions for one hour. He will continue only if he chooses to. This will not be the last time the President will answer questions about his childhood, so please, please, remember that. Try to be courteous and thoughtful about this discussion. I know that’s a stretch for many of you but give it a shot.”

Out in the hallway, Jed stood with Abbey. She was adjusting his sweater. “Damn, I like this look for you.”

He looked down at the black jeans, ocean blue cashmere V-neck over a black tee. “I feel like an over-aged Gap ad.”

“You look hot and I’ll be waiting for you right here.” Her lips found his. They kissed deep and without embarrassment. “I love you, Jed. Don’t ever forget that.”

Winking, he smiled to cover his anxiety and said, “Don’t get emotional on me.”

They heard CJ say, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States.”

He smiled at Abbey. “Got to go.” Walking to the podium wasn’t easy like it usually was. CJ moved to the side and he took his place. He began his prepared words. “Good afternoon. I have a very brief statement and then I’ll take questions.

“Last night, as part of a telethon raising money for programs serving America’s abused children I spoke of my own history. This surprised you. I never recall a time when I wasn’t being hit for some infraction of some unknown rule. My situation was not unique. In fact, many of you went through similar situations. There was no revelation in what I spoke last night. Millions of children suffer abuse in all its forms on a daily basis. I will answer your questions provided I discern that answering them would be helpful. Prurient interest isn’t helpful. Please don’t push for details I’m not willing to tell. So, before this gets all out of hand, I’ll begin by calling on Sandy. Do you have a question, Sandy?”

Sandy stood up. “Mr. President, thank you for meeting with us today. Why did you not talk about this part of your childhood before last night? And then, why last night?”

“It was something I never wanted to remember. Not talking made that easier. As for last night, someone told me that it might help children who are afraid to talk about their situations. If that might be true, then it was important. I’m President of the United States - all of it, not just the adults.” As far as he considered, the question was answered. “Okay, next.”

Sandy stood up again. “Excuse me, Mr. President. I have a few follow-up questions. Were you trying to hide this part of your life? And if so, why? Considering what you admitted last night, it seems odd that you wouldn’t say anything until years after the fact and when your father is dead and therefore unable to respond to your accusations.”

Jed was not happy. “Was I trying to hide the fact that my father beat me?” His face reflected his anger. “Of course, I was. Would you want people to know your father beat you regularly? For God’s sake, Sandy, you’re bright enough to know the answers to those questions without asking them. My father died twenty years ago. His involvement now is moot. Next?”

A right-wing journalist popped up, “Mr. President, we have not heard or seen any proof that what you admitted to last night is true. When will we get that proof and in what form?”

CJ stepped up to the podium. “Eric, let me answer that question. A small group of people have seen the scars. I am one of those people. I can attest to the validity of the abuse, but I will not describe what I have seen. Next question.”

The President took her arm. “Thank you, CJ, but I can speak for myself.” He looked at the reporter. “We are gathering the medical records from the hospital my father put me in when he nearly killed me. That’s all you get for now. Take my word or don’t. It’s up to you.”

“Mr. President, what form was the abuse it? Are we talking spankings?”

“I won’t answer that.”

“Why?”

“Because when I describe it, I relive it and I’m not going to entertain you. This press conference should be centering on what we might be able to do to stop this problem, not on the punishments my father visited on me.” The last statement was aimed at CJ as well as the room.

Danny Concannon stood. “Sir, was the abuse all physical?”

CJ watched the life in her President’s eyes fade from bright blue to dirty gray. This may not have been the best idea for the President. These were the first questions and already he was breathing hard. As she made her way to the podium again, CJ admonished the room. “Please have regard for the subject matter.”

From the back she heard, “These are yes or no questions. It looks like we’re going to be pushed aside when we ask the hard stuff. I want to know if his father raped the boys at the school where he was headmaster. Do we have to play nice then?”

Jed answered immediately. “As far as I’m aware, my father hurt no one other than me, but I won’t say that in certainty. My assumption is I was his only victim.”

“What about your brother?”

“He was not abused by my father as far as I’m aware.”

“Your mother?”

His anger grew again. “My mother is not part of this discussion.”

Chaos erupted with no one waiting to be called on. It was a cacophony of questions and most of them as hurtful as possible. “Did your mother intervene on your behalf?” “Did she hit you, too?” “Did you try to run away?” “Any permanent injuries?” “Related to your MS?” Then one sounded out above all others and silenced the room in seconds. “How often did he rape you?”

By now, the President was rapidly getting furious at the fruitlessness of this press conference. “This was a mistake. This is a perfect example of why abused kids don’t talk. Supposedly you’re responsible adults and you don’t know how to have an adult conversation about it. Once CJ feels you have learned how to behave conscientiously we may schedule another press conference. Until then, I won’t be available for interviews.” He walked out, took Abbey by the hand, led her out of the West Wing and back toward the Residence.

CJ took the podium. “I don’t want to hear a thing. We will have information for you before we ask the President to talk to you again. One of the first things you have to understand is that this is a devastating experience and it may change over time, but one of the things that doesn’t change is the unwarranted feelings of shame and embarrassment those children have. That our President had the courage to talk to children about his early life is to be commended. That he felt he could talk to you about it is also to be commended. I hope you are all embarrassed and ashamed of your behavior. That’s it. Now, go home and apologize to your children.” She left the room quickly, stormed into her office and slammed the door.

The door to the Residence was closed leaving Jed and Abbey alone and away from the ruckus his press conference stirred up. “I made a huge mistake. I should have kept it all a secret.”

Abbey had nothing to say. She embraced him, folding into his arms and crying. He held her, protecting her from the hurt the press caused both of them. “I’m going to ignore all this and it will go away.”

She put her hand to his head. “Your fever is back.” She noticed his head was turned to his right a little. “How’s your vision? Is your right eye bad?”

There was force, more like a push, but he separated from her. “I need time away from here. Let’s go to the farm.” His speech became rushed and anxious. “I need a few days.”

“You’re scaring me, Babe.”

Jed paced fiercely through the room. His steps were apprehensive, leading nowhere. A tightened jaw and narrow gaze had him somewhere else, somewhere not safe. “Right now, Abbey, right now I feel blood on my back.” His head pounded where the axe handle smashed across his eye. “My head hurts. My leg aches and I don’t know if it’s MS or my mind playing tricks on me.” Both fists flew into the bottles on the bar, shattering into his hands, blood pouring from several deep cuts. “God, am I crazy? I feel him hitting me.”

Abbey grabbed his arm and took him into the bathroom. “Go around breaking bottles, you’re going to feel like that for a long time.” He sat on the edge of the tub. Abbey began to run cold water and grabbed some towels. “Jed, I’m going to call Stanley Keyworth. You need help here and I’m not the one.” She gently took his hand and winced at the shard of glass still stuck into the tissue between his index and middle finger. “You did it good, Jethro.” With her surgeon’s precision, she extracted the long sliver while his face screwed up. “You’ll need stitches in this and some antibiotics. I have to get the medic on call.”

“I don’t care. It’s just another scar.”

“Stop it.” She attended to the several cuts and wrapped his hand. “I got to call for help with the stitching. Let’s get you in the kitchen. It will be easier to stitch that hand on the table than in here.” Taking his elbow, she got him to his feet and they walked to the kitchen. Along the way, she had one of the Secret Service make that call for medical help.

They reached the kitchen where Abbey pulled a cold bottle of water from the fridge. “Here, sit down and drink this.” She handed him an open bottle. His face was blank, no show of emotion, no pain, nothing, not even steady blinking. “Jed,” she knelt at his feet and looked up into his eyes, “please look at me.” His eyes remained unfocussed. “Jed, look at me. Are you feeling those beatings he gave you?” She put her hands on his face making sure he saw her. “Josiah, my love. Trust yourself more. It’s just memories of the horrible things you survived. You survived and now you’re a hero to millions of kids like you.”

“A hero. I hate it. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You’re stuck in the past right now.”

He realized she was right and with studied effort tried to work himself out of that hellhole. “I didn’t fight back. It’s been almost 50 years and I can’t get past it. Why not?”

A real answer wasn’t there for her, but she thought she’d just try to tell him again that he was loved and cared for, but he interrupted her. “How can a parent not love his child? Forget love. He didn’t even like me.”

“You’re asking questions that even if there were answers, they wouldn’t matter. The fault was his, not yours. That’s what you have to concentrate on - moving the fault in all this from you to him. He’s to blame for hitting you, burning you.” His body tightened. “Yeah, long ago I could see you had burn scars. I was a med student.” She smiled just a bit, “When I saw your cute naked body the first time, the burns were there.” The smile disappeared. “That’s the scar you had surgery on the first year we were married.”

“You never said anything about the scar being a burn.”

“I was afraid that you’d pull away from me. The thought of losing you was too frightening. If it meant I believed your stories about clumsiness, then so be it. When the time was right I knew you’d tell me.”

She had known about the burn for over 35 years. There was no doubt that she wouldn’t be repelled by his body, but the story was gruesome and her heart was huge. It would break that heart to hear his story, but he wanted to tell it. It was a child’s need to tell someone, a child’s need and he was 63. Childhood was left behind decades earlier. “Part of me wants you to know, but I can’t find a good reason and it will only hurt you.”

“If I get hurt, it’s because I love you so much. Your pain is mine and I can’t help but want to share it.” She stood strong. “Jed, you have to share this. You won’t ever be rid of the memories, but you can grow more secure in the knowledge that you will always be loved. The marks on your body only matter to me because they shout the suffering you went through. What they look like doesn’t bother me.”

The room was entered by Admiral Hackett. “Heard you had a run in with some glass.” He noticed the towels. “Both hands?”

“Only his right hand needs stitches. The left isn’t bad. A Band-Aid or two can take care of it.” She began to unwrap his right hand. “It’s between his index and middle finger. A shard of glass got in there and sliced upward.”

Hackett took the injured hand and looked closely. “Nicely done, Mr. President.” He addressed Abbey. “How did you clean it?”

“Just water. I didn’t want to damage the tissue.”

“The cut is clean, no bad edges. This shouldn’t take long, Mr. President.”

Jed had been stitched up often enough to know, “Yeah, the hardest part is going to be the anesthetic.”

Hackett gathered his equipment, “You want to do the stitching, too?”

His head turned away so he didn’t have to watch his body being attacked again. “Just get it over with.”

The room went silent as Admiral Hackett injected anesthetic and artfully sewed up the wound on the President’s hand. As he knotted the last of three stitches, he quietly said, “May I tell you something about your speech last night?”

He really didn’t want to hear what the Admiral had to say. “You, too?”

Admiral Hackett spoke as he finished the final stitch. “My grandson watched the speech with me and my wife. He knew I was one of your doctors and he asked me if you were an honest man.”

Abbey shook her head. “Odd question. How old is he?”

“He’s eight. His name is Ted. He’s kind of a quiet boy. I told him you were the most honest man I knew and that it was very brave for you to say what you said. He started to cry and we found out his mother’s uncle is a predator.” Hackett’s own eyes filled with tears. “If you hadn’t spoken last night, we may never have known what his uncle was doing. I can’t thank you enough. Neither can my son nor his wife. Turns out the bastard used her when she was little.”

Abbey walked to the Admiral and hugged the tall, stately Navy officer. “You listened to him. Good for you.”

The Admiral put a tissue to his eyes so his emotions wouldn’t stream down his cheek. “There wouldn’t have been anything to listen to if the President of the United States hadn’t spoken directly to Teddy. Thank you for telling kids to talk, that you knew what they felt.”

The President felt uncomfortable and yet oddly gratified. One child, one little boy named Ted, was on the path to healing. “He told you?” Hackett nodded. “Ted must really love his grandfather. At eight years old, he knew he could trust you. I’m proud of you, Admiral. You’re a good grandfather. Now, put a bandage on this mess so I don’t have to look at it.”

Smiling with tremendous gratitude, the Admiral answered, “Yes, sir.”

Abbey put a kettle of water on the stove. “Jed, what kind of tea?” she stopped him before he answered. “Caffeine free tea.”

“That Lapland Sushi stuff.”

“What? Lapland . . . Ah, Lapsang Souchong. Too much caffeine, Babe. Try another. You liked that Lemon Ginger one I made last week.” He agreed and Abbey found the tea-ball.

Jed watched the Admiral carefully place the plaster on his hand. “You have to get Ted to a child psychologist. He’s feeling vulnerable right now.”

“Already started looking into that. One doctor we talked to said she’d already had four referrals today because of your speech.”

Abbey overheard. “Look what you’ve done, Jed.”

Admiral Hackett smiled at his patient. “A lot of people owe you. May I make a suggestion?”

“You’ve sewn up several of my body parts. Yeah, suggest away.”

“The kids need help. The abusers need punishment. The caretakers need help, too. I don’t know how to talk to Teddy. I need help. Certainly not on the level of the children, but don’t forget the helpers.”

Jed’s brain began to shift into solution mode. “I’m going to get a commission formed to help create a plan. I’d like you to be on it.

“I serve at the pleasure of the President.” The equipment got packed away. “I’m on my way. Dr. Bartlet, you know how to care for the cut.” 

“Yes, I do. Thanks for helping out here. As for how to talk to Ted; just keep doing what you’ve always done. You have a strong relationship with him. Let him know that he’s no different in your eyes. Tell him you’re proud of him and that he’s come forward. He’s second guessing himself now.”

Jed spoke up. “Tell him the President is proud of him. He’s very brave. If he wants to, you call my secretary Debbie and arrange for us to meet.”

“Thanks. Have a great day.” Backing out of the kitchen, he stopped. “Oh, don’t let the press throw you. They’re vultures and don’t go breaking bottles.” He didn’t see the smiles on the First Couple’s faces as he left.

The teapot whistled. “How’s your hand feel?”

“Still working off the pain killer. It will be fine.”

The teapot and cups got to the table and Abbey sat down. “Did you hear what Hackett said? You saved his grandson.”

“That’s not what he said.” With tea steeping before him, he thought intensely about the Admiral. “The boy saved himself.” He took a sip of the too hot tea.

“Because you told him it was okay to tell.”

He had no energy to argue and Abbey wouldn’t be changing her mind, so he left her words hanging in the air. Without adding words of his own, he silently finished his tea, returned to their bedroom, flipped off his shoes and decided to hide away in sleep. No one or nothing would bother the sleeping President, except for dreams that he didn’t control. Dreams he couldn’t control.

_He was only seven, but he won the school’s spelling bee out-spelling boys eight years older. The big blue ribbon was gripped in his hand, “Mama, Mama, look what I did! I won the spelling contest!”_

_Jed’s mother thrilled for her child, but she had experience he didn’t. “Jed, that’s wonderful, but did you beat the children in your class or the whole school?”_

_“The whole school, even the eighth graders. Bobby Kinzing got really mad. He said I was too little to be in the bee with the upper class kids, but I beat them all. You want to know the word?”_

_“Yes, I do, but first, I want you to put the ribbon in the special box and not say anything about it to your father.”_

_His pride was shot and killed. His father hated his successes, so his mother had a box where he could save the ribbons, the A+ papers, the poetry he wrote and anything else that would make a good parent proud. Every so often, he’d peek in the box to see his accomplishments. As he placed his newest ribbon inside, he smiled at the other ribbons there. The teacher said he had a talent for words and made him read his prize-winning poem in front of the school. It displeased his father greatly, a Bartlet showing off. The spanking he got made it hard to sit down for two days. Gently he folded the new ribbon and he placed it in the box in a place of honor - right on top. He whispered, “I beat them all.”_

_From behind he heard, “Pride is a deadly sin. Is it right to be prideful?”_

_His father was a big man who could enter a room as silently as a mouse. Jed responded before he had time to think. “No, sir,” was usually the answer wanted._

_“You surpassed my students and that reflects poorly on me.”_

_“I’m sorry.” He slid the box back in the safe spot. “The spelling bee words were easy.”_

_“Stop making excuses. Your goal in life is humiliating me.”_

_Fear filled his body and breathing became difficult. “No, Father. Never.”_

_“And now you call me a liar. You have five minutes to change and get into the kitchen.” He left._

_As he watched his father leave, Jed noticed his little brother, a toddler who didn’t understand why the father that doted on him didn’t like his big brother. So, he stuck out his tongue and waddled after his source of tenderness._

_Jed went to his room and changed into dungarees and a tee shirt. As he sat to put his shoes on, he rocked back and forth, anxious about the hell he would receive on this day._

_When he got to the top of the steps, he tripped and slid down to the first floor. He wasn’t hurt, but he didn’t know if his father would punish him for being too clumsy to be a Bartlet. He was grateful his fall from grace wasn’t noted. Walking into the kitchen, he found his family sitting at the table. His father called. “Come here.”_

_Jed walked to face his father. The man stood up and lifted his son so that Jed stood on the chair. They were eye to eye. “Nothing seems to work with you.” A huge back-handed blow threw Jed to the floor. “Get up here.”_

_His young cheek was already swelling, but he got to his feet and crawled onto the chair again. He waited, holding back the tears. Another smack, this time with a closed fist and he dropped again to the floor. This time he cried out, “No, Father.”_

_“Don’t defy me!” He grabbed Jed’s left arm and flung the boy against the wall. The pain was excruciating. The joint was dislocated and hung oddly at his side._

_Jed’s mother pleaded, “John, don’t hurt his arm again.” She held onto her youngest boy knowing it would keep her husband from hitting her._

_John didn’t hear or care to hear his wife. He still held onto the damaged limb. With no uncertainty, he twisted it one more time and Jed screamed._

_“I’m sorry!” Tears fell in streaks down his young face. “Stop. Please!” He couldn’t stop begging for mercy. His arm was becoming numb and shaking from the agony. The begging turned into pitiful wails for sympathy that wasn’t going to come. The nerves in his arms started burning into flames and his screams grew with the increasing pain._

He heard a voice trying to calm him down. “Jed, it’s okay. You’re okay. Come on. Look at me.”

His eyes didn’t want to open. “My arm.”

Another voice was there, “Wake up. It will all go away when you wake up.”

He wrestled to get his eyes open. The pain started to ebb. Abbey tenderly moved his hair off his forehead while his Ellie, his middle child, held onto the arm that felt dislocated. “I was,” he stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Dad. Nightmares go away.”

“Not always.” He saw his lovely daughter trying to be strong for him. “I’m so happy to see you. I love you so much.” His breathing started to slow down.

Ellie leaned over and hugged her father. “I love you, Dad.” She stayed in his arms. “I hate grandfather. I hate him for beating you.”

Jed pulled her away just a bit. He stared into her gorgeous, weeping eyes. “Don’t hate anyone for any reason. Hate only hurts you.”

Abbey poured some ice water for him. “That nightmare sounded pretty mean. Your shoulder again?”

Jed wouldn’t answer.

Ellie hung onto him as if letting go would make him evaporate. “Last night on television, you were beautiful. And, I’m sorry, but fuck him. He didn’t know who you were and what you could do.”

Jed held onto Ellie and absorbed her love as much as he could, praying she would love him after he confessed, “I let him hurt me. I wasn’t strong enough.”

Her arms tightened. “You were strong. When the time was right, you talked and that time was last night.”

He separated from Ellie and looked at the two women in front of him. “You know, all this ‘we’re proud of you’ stuff has to stop. I’m not telling it for you to be proud of me. It’s selfishness. All this is going to make you hurt and I’m selfish but I have to purge this shit I’m dealing with.”

Ellie obstinately shook her head. “Dad, I love you. You never raised a hand to me. I never remember even thinking you were about to hit me. I grew up without fear.” She chastised, “You don’t understand what it means to be selfish especially if you think your admission last night was selfish.”

It was another argument he wasn’t ready to have. “Okay. Fine,” he mumbled with absolutely no conviction. “What time is it?”

As Zoey and Liz walked in, the eldest daughter said, “Four forty-five.”

Zoey practically dove into her father’s arms. “Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

“No, Baby. Just tired and about to get up.” Seeing his bed surrounded by his girls, all four of them, put a broad smile on his face. “Wow, look at you all. I’ve done pretty well for myself.” He swung his legs off the bed onto the floor. “I want pizza, extra cheese and sausage. Then I want to watch a movie, one we’ll all like.”

Zoey immediately said, “Wait Until Dark. I love that movie.”

Liz stopped her from describing the spooky thriller. “Fantasia - classical music for Dad and animated mushrooms for Ellie. You, littlest sister, you can be one of the dancing hippos.”

Abbey mouthed a silent thank you to her eldest child. It wasn’t the night for scary psychological horror. “I’ll order Priori’s okay?” The consensus was enthusiastic.

Zoey had the only whine. “Can we get a Hawaiian pizza?”

Her father teasingly glowered. “No child of mine will ever put pineapple on pizza.” With Valley Girl precision, he added, “Ew, gross.” He got them all smiling. Maybe the conversation about his father would be ended for the evening, but he recognized that was a very long shot.

 


	7. The Bigger Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More information makes life more difficult for CJ and the President.

CHAPTER SEVEN - The Bigger Picture

CJ sat in her office trying to design her interactions with the press. She was livid. In her wildest dreams she didn’t count on them being quite so mercenary, so interested in the gory details that they would not consider the victim in all this. Then again, they were the press. She should have known better. There had to be a way to protect Jed Bartlet and still give him the leeway he needed to confront the issue of abuse. She tore up the paper she was writing on and swore as it missed the wastebasket.

Danny Concannon showed up at her door. “CJ?”

When she saw him there, she coldly said, “Go away.”

“I didn’t say anything wrong. I asked if the abuse took any other form than physical.”

“And everyone knew what you meant. The noise started right after that. God Danny, that was terribly disrespectful. I saw the scars. They’re horrible. He was a child when his father whipped him.”

Danny sat. His voice softened and, like the President, his eyes turned to the floor. “CJ, I know.”

Anger kept her from looking at him. The press conference went to hell after his question. In her eyes, it was his fault. “Go away.”

Danny tried to make his point again. Sounding out like a well-known, no-longer-secret code, he said “CJ, I know.”

She finally realized it was a confession. Danny just told CJ that he was a member of the fellowship. “No, Danny, not you, too.”

“Not like the President, but yeah and I can’t tell you anymore. I don’t talk about it. Let me write about it for the President. I’ve covered him for years. I like him and I believe in his Presidency. Talk to him. See if it would be better for him if he just talked to one person, me.”

CJ didn’t want to think the worst of Danny, especially now, but he was a reporter and she was a press secretary. She knew the subterfuges reporters used. “Listen, it would be better for you, but this can’t be a story about him. It has to break as widely as possible. The window we have now is open and we have to take advantage of that.”

She’d never seen Danny Concannon look so incredibly lost and vulnerable. “Oh, Danny. How many of you are out there? I always thought abused kids were part of an exclusive club. Turns out you’re not and I feel so stupid.”

Danny heard and understood but he wanted to talk even though he stumbled over words, still unable to meet CJ’s eyes. “I can’t tell you what happened, but it didn’t involve my parents. It was a camp counselor and I’m done telling you about it.”

His voice surprised the Press Secretary. Danny wasn’t timid but this Danny was. She wanted him to know he was safe. “Tell me or don’t tell me. I won’t push. It’s up to you. When you’re ready, I’m here. And it doesn’t have to be now.”

Danny remained staring at the wall. “I couldn’t believe what he said. I mean, I believe him, but I don’t know how he found the courage to talk the way he did.” When he finally looked at CJ, he said, “You’re the first person I’ve told and I’m shaking. He told the world.”

“He doesn’t want the story to be about him. The White House wants to concentrate on what government can do for these kids, to protect them.”

Danny got up and gently kissed CJ’s forehead. “You going to brief again today?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure when. I have to talk to the President again before I face the gaggle. I’m going to be better prepared. I thought I was before, but obviously not. I can’t believe it got out of hand so quickly.” She sighed, “Oh, well. He won’t be put in that situation again. I won’t allow it.”

“There have to be others in there like me. You don’t know how . . .” He searched for the word and changed his mind. Figuring out who was a victim of abuse didn’t sit right so he spoke of the President’s admission. “Bringing child abuse to the public in this way was gallant and I don’t know a President in my lifetime whom I would consider gallant. CJ, I would write the truth and center it on the national issue. There is no way I’d write to embarrass him.”

Her world was morphing in front of her. Two days ago, she didn’t give a lot of thought to child abuse and now she saw how it infiltrated her world. It had a history ages long and yet the immediacy of it was shocking. Mankind hadn’t learned yet how abusing children had shaped the world. Her own world knew at least two who suffered through the atrocities done by supposedly trusted adults.

That was what bothered CJ almost as much as the inflicted pain. These were people whom a child was taught to trust. Coming back from that kind of disappointment seemed impossible, but one of the greatest men in the world did it. So did this talented journalist. “Danny, I know you’d write well and with care, but it’s not my decision. Understanding that isn’t hard for you. I’m sure of it.”

He stood up and ran his hand through his curly red hair. “CJ, no one else knows about me.”

She interrupted. “It’s not my story to tell. I won’t say anything.”

Hesitation preceded him telling her, “The President can know. It may make him more willing to talk to me.”

The whole thing was new to her, but instinct kicked in and she told him, “Don’t count on that. It’s taken him years to say anything at all. We’re working our way through this with blinders on. We don’t have a lot of precedent here.” She stopped. “We’re off the record, okay? I’m going to stop unless you agree to being off the record.”

“With this, there’s no question. This whole conversation never happened.”

She debated internally, but she was starting to feel the entire set of ramifications child abuse had. Her President’s abuse was now affecting her. Sharing was her second nature. She was a Press Secretary. Sharing was her job. “You can’t say a word about this, but it’s breaking my heart. His father whipped him like an animal. He was sodomized with an axe handle. Somehow, and this is the most remarkable thing about him, he grew up to be a genius whose intellect is surpassed by compassion. I can’t let this get away from me. I’m years too late, but someone has to protect him.”

Danny saw the emotion filling the Press Secretary. “Don’t take on something you can’t handle. Make sure Leo and Toby know what’s going on. Let them share the pressure because you are too empathetic to do this alone.”

“I want to do this for him. Some grownup has to.”

“A grownup like Abbey. You have to be two things to him right now. One is the best Press Secretary the Presidency has ever seen and two is his friend who lets him tell you what he needs to say. Go slowly with the friend part. He wants to be in control right now. Trust me on this. To quote him, ‘I know.’”

She laughed. “Can you imagine how big that phrase is going to get? Charlie has already found websites selling tee-shirts.”

“It’s brilliant. Toby wrote an outstanding speech for him.”

Pride took her to her full six feet of height. “That was extemporaneous. He pulled those words from his own mind. His talent for oratory is better than anyone I can think of including Churchill and Cicero.”

“He’d appreciate the comparison to Cicero. I think he’d like to bring Latin back as the national language.”

“That’s a no-brainer. He told me once that my headstone should read post hoc, ergo propter hoc. I don’t even remember what it means.”

“Therefore, because of.” He grinned at her incredulous look. “Hey, me and the President, Notre Dame grads. Latin was part of the curriculum.”

“Were you studying to be a priest, too?”

Laughing, Danny shook his head. “Hell, no. I wanted to be a sports reporter and I liked their teams.”

CJ turned on her computer. “I hate to do this, but I have a lot to research here before I put the President in front of you vultures again.” She looked into his eyes, “Danny, I appreciate what it took to tell me and it will stay alone with me.”

“I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t know that.”

Curiosity had her asking, “Have you told a lot of people?”

“Like I said, you’re the first.” He purposely made himself look CJ directly in her beautiful eyes. “You don’t tell people, CJ. It’s embarrassing. You feel stupid. You let these jerks touch you and bodies react independent of minds. Your body tells you that you like it, when your head tells you that it’s wrong.”

“The president was physically abused. It sounds like you were sexually abused. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll apologize now. In fact, I do apologize. I’m sorry.”

“Jed Bartlet was raped.”

She shook her head insisting, “No, he was sodomized with an axe handle.”

Danny took her hand. “Define sodomy.” CJ sat, lips apart wanting to say something but nothing coming to her. She didn’t need verification of what Danny meant but he told her, “CJ, sodomy with an axe handle is sexual abuse.”

Her world had been spinning too fast since she learned of her President’s childhood. Adding the word rape to it threw her into a spin so frightening that she had to cry. She held onto Danny and sobbed for Jed Bartlet and for Danny Concannon and all those like them.

******

Jed had Fighting Irish basketball on television. A bowl of popcorn sat on the end table and he grabbed a few kernels popping them in his mouth. Then he handed the bowl to Ellie who shared it with her sisters all sitting on the floor by their father. Abbey sat with them and took some popcorn for herself. Usually when watching Notre Dame basketball. Jed’s attachment to his school was intense. Abbey used to wonder about it until she managed to put his attendance at Notre Dame in a timeline. Going away to school matched up with his freedom from his father. It was the end of the daily abuse and the beginning of Jed truly learning who he was and how important he could become.

Abbey attended St. Mary’s, the women’s college associated with Notre Dame. He was her age but already a senior when she met him in her freshman year. Everyone knew who he was. He’d been on Time Magazine’s cover lauded as the smartest man in the country. The school used his image in its recruitment materials.

Being incredibly bright, Jed taught incoming freshmen and that included a basic mathematics class for non-mathematics majors. The girls at St. Mary’s were able to be in his class and his classes filled up with quickly with star-struck girls. At St. Mary’s his nickname was Father What-a-Waste. It was earned because according to nearly every young girl, he was too pretty to be a priest and the nickname stuck like glue.

Young Abbey Barrington roomed with Millie Koslovitz and they shared the class with Jed as their teacher. Both wanted to be doctors and had the brilliance and determination to achieve their goals. However, they were healthy young women and the pursuit of young men was part of their personal curriculum.

His eyes attracted Abbey first. They were blue but the shade of blue changed daily. They morphed from a dark, nearly navy blue to pale grayish blue and each time they met, she would check to see what color they projected that day.

People normally expect a New England academic bookworm to own a pasty complexion but he was golden tan looking more like the farmers he descended from. When she met him he was slender with broad shoulders, just a few inches taller than she was and she was very short. Despite the shoulders, he actually looked scrawny. Then came that one day at the pool when she saw him shirtless. She bit her lip to stay quiet.

She recalled saying, “Good Lord, Jed. How clumsy are you?”

He immediately realized what she meant. His tee-shirt was on a pool chair. He put it on faster than he ever had before. “I lived on a farm. I fell a lot and stuff there is dangerous.” The lie kept most people at bay and he hoped it had the same effect on Abbey.

A med student notices things in a different way than others. Her hands went under the shirt and pulled it up. She touched the scars. “Jed, how did these happen?” She touched a small area that had a raised scar. “And this isn’t from a fall, is it?”

The shirt was pulled down again. “Barbed wire and stuff hurts when you fall on it. I told you I was clumsy.” He stared into her eyes. “Please, let it go. It doesn’t matter. I got scars. Who cares? I’m going to be a professor so I won’t be having farm accidents anymore.”

A doctor’s hands caressed his back. “No more accidents for you.”

“No more accidents.”

Abbey returned to her present, watching Notre Dame come from behind and take the lead. Since those first dates with Jed decades earlier, she knew her head fit into the crook of his neck in perfection. She found her way there trying to keep from crying. The lies about the scars were protection. When he was ready, he’d talk. However, she didn’t realize they would be grandparents before he’d say a word.

Halftime showed up and Jed got up to answer a knock at the door. When he opened it, he found CJ waiting with stooped shoulders and a blank expression. Jed didn’t like what that forebode. He invited her in and started breathing deeply. Instinct told him this wasn’t going to be what he wanted. “So, tell me what’s wrong. What do the scavengers want?”

CJ sighed. No matter how much she wanted this to be easy, it just wasn’t going to be. “It’s the gaggle. They want to talk to you again but I told them it was up to you. There would be rules and I don’t know if we can make them behave.”

Abbey walked over. She had her own mind made up. “Not today. You can’t expect him to go down there again. They were animals.”

Jed guided the two women to the bedroom sitting room. He parked himself in a big overstuffed chair. CJ and Abbey sat next to each other across the coffee table.

He pulled no punches. “What do they want, CJ?”

“Another chance to ask you questions.”

Abbey shook her head vehemently. “They were vultures.”

CJ had to agree. “Yes, they were and I have a couple of ideas that you might like better than going in front of them again.”

He tried to keep calm though he didn’t really understand why doing that was so hard. Mostly to himself, he mumbled, “This whole thing was a mistake.”

CJ was adamant. “It wasn’t. I can’t believe what has happened in less than 24 hours. Your admission last night has made a huge difference in the lives of so many children. The switchboard has been getting calls from people thanking you for giving them the courage to intervene on a child’s behalf.”

The fight inside his head was a battle between being thankful children found courage in his confession and fighting the battle he would have in his own mind. His entire life had been spent hiding his situation, denying the pain, covering the scars. Even Abbey hadn’t seen them until they were too far into their relationship and making love had become a favorite pastime.

Jed chose to ignore CJ’s comment. “Do you have any options to deal with this?”

“A few, some of which I don’t think you’ll appreciate.”

Abbey watched her relaxed husband tighten up and develop that “get away from me” look in his eyes. She told CJ to, “Start with the one that protects him as much as possible.”

Opening her notebook, she started. “Okay, the one we have the most control over is where you speak to the press with a prepared statement. It would need to have some personal experience in it but we don’t have any questions at all. You read and leave.”

Jed growled, “They won’t like that.”

CJ told him, “I don’t care. We will do what feels right for you. I won’t leave you open to the cacophony they made earlier today.”

Reading and leaving felt like a betrayal to the kids even if it did appeal to him. There was a balance to strike between speaking for the children and speaking for himself. “Okay, that’s one possibility. Tell me another.”

“I could demand all questions be submitted prior to the conference. That way I can read what they’re asking and pull the ones we feel are intrusive. At the conference itself, I would put the questions in a box and randomly pull them.”

Abbey asked, “Would we know who wrote the question?”

“Absolutely. We’d have to offer the writer the opportunity to ask follow-up questions. That’s the only glitch in that plan.”

Jed snapped at CJ. “Why do they have to have follow-ups? Let them give you two questions and I’ll answer one of them. They can decide which one as long as both pass your muster.”

“We could do that. I’m not sure how the gaggle will like it.”

“I don’t care. Would I have to make a statement?”

“Something brief.” She checked her notebook and told the President and First Lady, “We could have a typical Press Conference but you would listen to the question and decide if you’ll answer it. If you choose not to, then we call on another person.”

“They’ll massacre me if we do that. They’ll accuse me of hiding information.”

Abbey wrung her hands. “You _are_ hiding information, a big piece of information and we better get this out as well. We were engaged when it happened.”

“No, that wasn’t child abuse.”

“But it’s related.”

“Stop.”

The daggers his eyes threw were painful for Abbey but she fended them off. “Leo knows. CJ should know because these are reporters. They will dig it all out and you know that.”

Again, his breathing became audible and CJ worried about what else was being kept secret. Then she decided to tell her President about the offer she heard in her office. “Sir, Danny came to see me. He gave me permission to tell you that he was sexually abused as a teenager.”

Jed crashed even harder. “Danny?” He could feel his father hitting him. “Shit.” His hands covered his face. “He said you could tell me?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have said anything without his permission.” They all sat quietly. CJ told them, “Danny said, if you agreed, you could talk only to him and he would write a book.”

“That would make the rest of them angry and they’d find any salacious semi-fact and exploit it. Thank Danny but tell him I can’t do that.” Standing up, he moved toward the door. “I need a beer. You ladies want one?”

Abbey nodded. “An O’Douls. I don’t want any alcohol.”

CJ was tired and a beer sounded great. “Make mine alcoholic.”

“It’s a deal and I’ll take my time because I need to think and,” he looked at his wife, “you need to tell CJ the story of my final fatherly encounter.”

His wife rose and went to him. Her arms tightened around his body. “Are you sure?”

He blew out a long slow breath. “You seem to be.” He kissed her forehead. “One O’Douls and one alcoholic.” With a small smile on his face, he left the women alone.

Abbey sat on the couch, her legs curled under her. “I don’t know how to start this or what you want to hear. It’s a long story. You want the long or short of it?”

“Whatever you want to tell.”

“I guess it all started with the night Jed proposed to me. It was a complicated evening. We both had things that needed saying and neither of us wanted to begin.”


	8. Life With Father, 1966

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jed and Abbey announce their engagement and suffer the consequences.

CHAPTER EIGHT - Life with Father: 1966

Jed drove to her apartment and sat in the car. She liked punctuality and so did he, but this night, he had to find the courage to go in. This wasn’t going to be a typical date. He reached over to pick up a small bouquet of flowers he brought for the occasion. The stretching made a muscle in his back contract oddly. That’s when he came to the realization that there were a lot more issues to talk about before asking her to marry him. She had to know who he truly was and what kind of family she would be marrying into. His eyes closed and he stayed in the car. Visions of childhood pain flooding over.

It seemed like 30 seconds, but almost ten minutes passed when he heard a knock on the car window. “Jed, are you okay?”

There she was wearing a red dress that revealed her outstanding figure. He motioned for her to move away from the door and he got out. Priorities demanded that they kiss with all the passion they had and he opted not to change that habit.

“You hurt yourself again, didn’t you. What did you trip over now?” Smiling, she said, “You are the klutziest man I’ve ever known.”

He’d never been much of an athlete. Being five feet not-quite seven inches tall didn’t help. “You know me too well.” He kissed her again, but this time, she pulled back a little. “We have to talk. I have something important to tell you. Let’s get you inside.”

Two minutes later, Abbey had a heating pad plugged in and put a glass filled with two fingers of expensive scotch in his hand. Jed sat at the end of the couch leaving room for her to stretch out for some intense one-on-one action later.

She curled up in his lap. “Am I hurting you?” He shook his head as he sipped the scotch. Bottled courage is what Leo called it. She positioned herself so their bodies melted into one another. “We have to talk about something.”

Holding Abbey made life wonderful. Not much had ever made him feel as warm and loved. “Yeah, we do. I love you so much. I can’t imagine my life without you. I have something to tell you, too. Well, ask you is more like it.”

Sitting bolt upright, she stared into his blue eyes. “Ask me?”

“You can’t answer me now because you have to think about it.”

Her heart beat faster. “I have to talk first. My thing may change how you feel.” The lights suddenly were too bright. She went around the room turning them off until only the soft glow from a table lamp in the other room lit them. It was what she always did when they made love. Jed liked the room dark. Jed had to be surrounded by darkness in order have sex and this turning off of lights was becoming a traditional part of foreplay.

The way their bodies fit together further convinced Jed that proposing was the only thing to do. “I love you so much. Let me go first.” He stumbled over his words. “I have to tell you things before I ask you the thing.”

Interrupting him, she raised both hands in front of her. “I love you, Jed, but let me get through this before you talk.” A few deep breaths and she continued, “I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a father.”

His eyes grew larger, “Really?” A huge smile pounced onto his face. “A baby?”

“Well, it’s not a puppy.”

His body moved without his asking it to. On his knees in front of her, arms flung around her in a grasp so tight, she had trouble breathing. “Jed, ease up a little.”

He sat back on his heels. “I’m sorry.”

Her doubts began to take over. “Sorry that I’m pregnant?”

“A baby is a gift from God and He is giving us a baby.” Then he remembered his reason for the evening’s anxiety. “Timing is everything, Abbey. I came here tonight to propose.”

“Yes!”

“Not yet. You’ll want time to think about it. I want you to be my wife so much, but you don’t know things about me that could change your mind,” his fear suddenly showed up, “especially with a baby on the way.”

Caressing his face with her fingers, “There isn’t anything you tell me that could change my mind.”

His head hung low. “Just wait.” Two breaths settled nothing so he just kept on. “I’ve been lying to you ever since we met.”

“You’re incapable of lying. Jed. That’s one of the things I love about you. You don’t lie, ever.”

Her belief in him was about to shatter. His stomach churned. He wasn’t the strong, in control man he pretended to be. “I lie and you need to know the truth especially with our baby on the way.”

She moved and sat on the floor next to him. “You’re starting to scare me.” Flippantly she asked, “Are you some kind of mass murderer?”

An impressive sadness swept him. “I don’t know. Might be.” She moved even closer. He kept talking. “Studies say that children who are abused grow up to be abusers.”

It all clicked. He just gave her the missing piece. “That fucking son-of-a-bitch. He hits you, doesn’t he?” Silence sat on them. Jed froze. “He’s the reason you’re always so bruised when you get back from his house. You’re not a klutz.”

“You didn’t hear me. Children who are abused become abusers. This baby of ours has to know he or she lives in a safe home. I can’t promise that.”

“Yes, you can. You aren’t your father. You will love this child and this child will love you.” 

“I can’t chance it. You can’t marry me if it puts our baby in danger.”

She playfully slapped at his thigh. He flinched away from her. “Oh God, and to prove it to you, I hit you. Please forgive me.”

He regretted the reaction. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s me. He doesn’t like me. I can’t figure out why, but if my father doesn’t like me, how can I promise that I’ll like, let alone love, this precious life in you.” His hand touched her soon to be swelling belly. “It frightens me.”

“Look at me, Babe.” He was unable to. Her hands went back to his head and turned him so he had to. “Look at me. I’m not afraid. You said the baby is a gift from God. Trust that God knows what He did. Already you’re trying to protect your child and you’ve only known about the pregnancy for a few minutes. You are not, not, not your father.”

Jed would need more convincing, but so would she. “Did you ever wonder why we only make love in the dark?”

She went for a joke. “For an almost priest you’re surprisingly kinky?” Her humor was lost.

His smile was forced. Again, he couldn’t look directly at her. “I don’t want you to see me. It's bad enough you saw me at the pool. There are scars all over. He made me ugly and no one should have to see me, but I wanted to make love to you. If the lights are out, then you don’t see the what I look like and I let him do it to me.”

She got up and turned on every light in the room. Reaching down, she took his hand. “Come back to the couch.” When they got there, she tenderly tugged on his sweater. “We’re going to take a look.”

“No, don’t.”

“Stop pulling this Beauty and Beast crap. I’m going to see his handiwork.” This time, she managed to get the sweater and shirt off his body. With Jed facing away from her and light shining on the truth, she saw thin pale stripes on his back. There were two that were thicker and raised high from his skin. One traced from his left shoulder diagonally to the right side of his torso. It was pulling. When she touched it, he cringed. “That hurts, doesn’t it?” His not answering verified her instinct. She leaned in, held him and kissed the scar down its length to where it ended in a scar from a burn. “You’re beautiful and you’re going to be the best dad the world has ever seen. You know what we’re going to do now? We’re going to have hot sex with the lights on and then do it again.”

“Please listen. He hated me. I lied to everyone. I pretended he was perfect. I’d make up stories about how much he cared. I lied so hard and often that sometimes I believed the lies were the reality. I wonder if I made,” he paused trying to find the right words, “I wonder sometimes if I made it all up.”

“Jed, your father hurt you. The proof is on your back. The marks on you are villainous. If you made up the stories it was to protect yourself. It’s okay.”

“Abbey, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said. I don’t know how to be a parent. You want to forget that and you shouldn’t.”

Her eyes began to tear. “I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to imagine him beating you.”

“Abused kids become abusers. Like I said, you’re forgetting that.”

“You’re right. I’m forgetting it all.” With conviction she nodded vigorously. “Oh, and yes.”

Thoughts in his head were bouncing too much. “What does yes mean?”

“Yes, I want to become Abigail Bartlet. We are going to marry and it should be soon because we are going to be parents! A family, Jed We are a family now.”

Believing her was hard, but he wanted to. “You trust me?”

“Don’t be such a jackass. Ask me again on our 50th anniversary. I’ll tell you then if I trust you.” She teasingly folded her arms over her chest. “Now you have something to do.”

His face scrunched up quite cutely when he was puzzled. He looked like a child when that happened “To do?” Her words didn’t make sense to him. “What do I have to do?”

Hands on hips, a smile on her face. “You wouldn’t be here asking me to marry you if you didn’t bring a ring. Fork it over, Jethro. I need something to brag on.”

The small box held the antique diamond ring. The large round center stone sparkled. He placed it on her finger and the stone seemed to sparkle even more. “Are we officially engaged now?”

Her hands ran over the multitude of scars on his body. “Damn straight, we are.” They settled into each other just holding on. Words were tossed aside. This was time to exist with one another. She held him close. He heard her tears, tears she cried for a little boy whose father beat him for no earthly reason. She cried fully then and let her tears wash over the pain his father had inflicted. When she finally composed herself, she took the handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped her face and then the tears on his back. She kissed him with more love than he’d ever felt from her before.

Abbey slid her hand to his waist and started unbuckling his belt. “Let’s celebrate.”

He pushed away. “You want the lights on. I can’t do that.”

“Then the lights go off. I’ve seen the scars now, Josiah. They make me terribly sad, but they don’t change my love. When you make love to me, I feel perfection.” He said nothing, but she heard his breathing increase and felt his heart beat faster. “I won’t push you. You tell me what you want and we’ll do that. If you want just sit and hold onto each other, that’s wonderful, but I hope you’re not afraid of being with me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” He scoffed at his feelings. “Here I am, a grown man and I’m still afraid of my father.”

“Hell, I’m afraid of him and I’ve never seen the man. Jed, he hurt you for years.”

All Abbey could see was this man she loved working hard at putting the horror he survived back under lock and key. Any more talking about it would only reopen wounds that couldn’t stop bleeding. She watched his face tighten into a map of agony.

“Josiah. I’m so sorry. Whatever you want from me you will have. We have a good life ahead with our little baby. You will become a man whose greatness the world will know. You are on earth to make it better. God’s plan for you is so big.”

She waited a very long, silent time before she said, “I’ll be right back.” She returned a few minutes later carrying a pharmaceutical jar. “This is cream that softens skin. Can I massage some on your scars? What do you think?”

No sound, no sobs, just a trail of tears streamed from his intense eyes. Words escaped his awareness, so he simply nodded.

Abbey took his hand. “Come on. Let’s go to my room. It will be easier there.” They walked into the bedroom where she helped him take off his shirt.

She sat on the bed with him. “Let’s get you lying on your tummy.” She smiled. He folded his hands under his head and stretched out. The jar was opened and she reached in for the soothing cream. “This is a dry skin cream. It can soften scars and that makes them hurt less.”

She stood up and turned on her stereo. Soft classical guitar music filled the room. “This is one of my favorites. It’s so beautiful. Let all those terrible thoughts go away. Think about our baby and how happy we’re going to be.” She could see him flinching, but she kept going.

He wanted her to stop, but said nothing. He knew he had to continue in order to be free from his father and fully able to commit to Abbey. They ended up entwined in each other. The massaging didn’t help his scars much, but it did help his soul. Finally, he got up from the bed and turned out the light. “I love you, Abbey. I promise I will never hurt you or any child.”

“I know that.” They kissed and made perfect love; perfect love in a dark room where past hurts couldn’t be seen.

The next day, they broke the news to Abbey’s parents. It was a combination of supreme happiness with the understandable concern of a child born out of wedlock. The Barringtons loved Jed and knew their daughter had met her match. Abbey insisted that her parents know about Jed’s father, no details, but that Jed was an abused child and they would be leaning on the Barringtons for support and not John Bartlet, Sr. Their response was positive.

The young couple felt the love of Abbey’s parents. Their mood changed drastically when Jed said, “Now for my father and brother.” The Barringtons decided it was time for a family trip and they would go to New Hampshire with their daughter and her soon to be husband.

Two days later, Jed and Abbey warily they drove up to the prep school where Dr. Bartlet lived on grounds. Jed pulled into the parking space behind the apartment. The car doors slammed shut and hand in hand they climbed the eight steep concrete steps at the back door. John Bartlet opened the door before they rang the bell. Jed spoke immediately. “Hello, Father. This is Abbey Barrington.”

Without saying anything he ushered them in.

Abbey didn’t know to expect, but this man was considerably larger than his son. He had nearly six inches on him in height and probably 35 to 40 pounds heavier. She began speaking to her father-in-law. “Thank you for seeing us, Dr. Bartlet. We have some good news!”

Jed knew his father didn’t want to hear the joy in Abbey’s voice. “Father, we want to tell you and Jon something important.”

“Jon isn’t here right now.”

Jon’s absence would make things more difficult, but Jed pushed on. “Father, Abbey and I are getting married. We’re moving to London so I can go to the London School of Economics. Full scholarship, by the way. And we’re having a child. Abbey is pregnant and I couldn’t be happier about it.”

“You aren’t married yet?” The question was more of an accusation.

“No, sir. We have sex and one perfect night, we managed to make our child. The wedding will be in six weeks. I’d like you to meet her parents. If you want to show up, then you’re welcome. If not, we’ll survive the disappointment.”

In a silent plea for him to try diplomacy rather than a battle, Abbey placed her hand on Jed’s knee. Bartlet saw the gesture. “Once a whore, always a whore.”

Instantaneously, Jed responded. “Changed my mind. I don’t want you there. We’re going.” They stood up to leave.

Jed’s father bellowed, “We’re not done with this.”

“We’re done. You will not call my fiancé a whore.” They made it outside to the top landing when Bartlet grabbed Abbey’s arm. Jed turned aggressive, a side of him Abbey had never seen. “Get your fucking hands off her.” He pushed his father away. “Abbey, get in the car.” 

“You’re no better than she is. She’s a whore carrying your bastard.”

“Abbey is my fiancé and she’s carrying our child. You won’t fuck this up for me. I’m happy and you hate that.”

“You’re an ungrateful son.”

“You just figuring that out?”

“Take your whore and bastard child and get out.”

Scoffing, Jed answered, “That’s one order of yours I’ll be happy to follow.”

Bartlet violently shoved his son into the iron railing. Jed landed on his gut with a thud. Just from the sound Abbey could tell he was hurt. While he was still bent over the railing, his father doubled his fists and came down with powerful blows on his lower back. Each blow forced a cry of pain. Abbey began to climb the steps. Jed warned her, “Stay down! He’ll hurt you and the baby!”

Jed’s hands went to his aching back as he turned to face his raging father. The old man decreed, “You don’t deserve the Bartlet name.”

Abbey saw that Jed was terribly off balance. “Be careful!”

With all his strength Bartlet pushed his son. The action got Jed airborne.

His fiancé’s warning couldn’t be heeded. Jed fell back with his head and spine pounding the edge on one cement stair and then a second and a third. Trying to protect his back, Jed twisted, landing on his face with his legs on the first step behind him. Bartlet rushed down the steps and sadistically stomped his booted heel on Jed’s injured back, over and over and over again. Abbey tried to make him stop. “You’re killing him!”

A dozen booted strikes later, Bartlet calmly walked back into the apartment leaving his son on the ground and Abbey unable to find help. Mustering all the anger she owned, she marched into the apartment and used the phone with Bartlet staring at her. “Please send an ambulance. My fiancé was pushed down the stairs. He has a back injury.” She stared into the old man’s soul and realized that he had no soul. After rattling off the address, she went back to Jed’s side.

Anger filled Bartlet. The accusation of his son’s whore could be his downfall. Since Jed left home, animosity grew between them and the boy was an embarrassment who always, disturbingly, recovered.

Outside at the base of the steps, Jed’s back felt on fire. His voice quivered. “Get out of here. Drive away. I don’t trust him.” Crushing pain overtook him.

Abbey gently ran her fingers through Jed’s hair. Her panic started to grow. “Baby, you’ll be okay. Help is coming.”

When his eyes shut, her fear doubled. She took her sweater off and lay it gently over his shoulders. She kissed him hoping for some response, but it wasn’t there.

Firemen loaded Jed onto a gurney. The responders did what they could to stabilize Jed’s head and back. They placed an oxygen mask on his face and roaring sirens left for Manchester where there was a hospital.

A police officer stayed with Jed’s father who was busy making up a cover story. The last thing Abbey heard was, “I don’t understand it, but he was furious and then fell down the steps. There was nothing I could do.”

It took nearly 20 minutes to get to Manchester General. Jed remained unconscious except for the occasional pained moan. The raging fear inside Abbey was matched with equally raging fury at a father who could hurt his own child so egregiously. She thought back to Jed telling her, “Abused kids become abusers” and now understood his apprehension about parenthood far better

The ambulance arrived at the hospital. He was carted off to emergency and she was led to the waiting room. The hardest part was beginning, the anticipating of news and worrying.

Doctors worked on Jed attempting to bring him back to full consciousness. Nearly two hours later, a doctor approached Abbey. “Are you next of kin?”

“Oh, God.” She was too frightened to continue, so she nodded yes and cried in agony. Screwing up her courage, she whispered, “He’s dead?”

The kind, seasoned doctor smiled and took her to a small private room where he sat Abbey down and took his place across from her.

Lawson smiled again. “He’s not dead. Relax. He’s hurt badly, but he’ll heal.” He began his litany. “X-rays showed no skull fractures, but a small bleed is putting pressure on his brain. We’ll monitor it and if need be, we’ll do a trephination to relieve it A trephination is ... “

“I’m a med student. I know what it is.”

“Oh, that will make my explanations easier.”

“Did he need stitches?”

“Only two in his scalp. Nothing to be concerned with. Now the brain bleed is another matter. We’ll monitor him very closely to be sure the blood absorbs safely and he isn’t still bleeding.”

Relief hadn’t been achieved yet. “What about his back? It was so bruised.”

“Both kidneys are injured, but they don’t seem to be torn. They’re bruised. We looked at the records for his last hospitalization here. He had severe kidney damage then. There won’t be any dialysis this time. And the bruise on his liver is not bad, but we’ll, of course, watch it. Some rest should take care of it all.”

Confusion hit her hard. “No dialysis this time?”

“There’s more. His spinal column didn’t fare as well. His lower back has stable, closed, simple fractures of the spinous processes on T8 and T9.”

While Abbey knew it would take time, these were injuries that would provide some pain, but nothing that wouldn’t heal. “The cord wasn’t injured.”

Lawson looked at her. “At TIO, he fractured the vertebral body. It’s unstable and we have to surgically repair it. Since he’s floating in and out of consciousness, we’ll need his father to sign for permission.”

“His father caused all this. You can tell he’s been beaten. A person doesn’t get hurt like that from a fall. Jed can sign the papers. He’s awake, right?”

“He wakes up for a few minutes. I guess we can try to explain the procedure to him and get him to sign.”

“Let me see him. Get the permissions ready so he can sign.”

Lawson led Abbey into Jed’s cubicle. She went to his side and put her face next to his. “Jed? I’m here, Baby. You’re going to be okay, but you need surgery.”

His eyes fluttered and finally stayed open. A terrified whisper said, “I can’t feel my legs, Abbey.” The words were cut off when a spasm drilled into his body.

A nurse brought a clipboard containing the necessary documents. With encouragement from Abbey, Jed signed what was needed. “Good job. You’re going to be fine now. They’re taking you for surgery in a few minutes.” She kissed him, tears streaking her face. “I’ll be here. Jed. I won’t leave you ever.”

She began to wonder what the TlO vertebra controlled. She didn’t think her heart could break more, but it did. TlO could mean paralysis.

As they moved Jed to surgery, Abbey called her parents. It would take almost an hour, but they were on their way. There was nothing else to do. She remained so overcome with her emotions that she didn’t hear her parents enter. Suddenly, her mother was sitting next to her, holding her. Without a word, Abbey began to cry like a little child. “Mama, he’s so hurt.”

“Shhhh.” It was a typical mother sound, but no other word seemed to be adequate. Her father stood above them angrily pacing in place. “How does a father do this to a son?” The comment was heard, but response wasn’t expected.

“He might not walk again. The vertebra that’s broken worst is where the nerves for walking are. They don’t think the cord was damaged, but if there’s any error in the surgery, he’ll be in a wheelchair.”

Her father, a general practitioner, became the voice of reason. “You said the cord wasn’t damaged. The probability is that he’ll regain any loss of function after all the swelling goes down.”

Nancy Barrington wiped the tears from Abbey’s face. “We’re Jed’s family now. You and he will depend on us. He’s not going to be left alone to deal with all this.” Abbey’s mother started her own stream of tears. “Thank you, God. Thank you for protecting our Jed, for watching out for him and our daughter.”

Mother, father and child held hands and together they prayed, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.”

Dr. Abraham, Jed’s surgeon, entered the Waiting Room and found the Barringtons. Dan looked up at the surgeon and asked, “How did it go?”

“We completed all the repairs to the vertebra without any glitches at all. He has two pins now and we’ll leave them there. A small chip of bone was excised, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” He tried to lighten the situation. “He’ll never be on the American bobsled team again, but I don’t think that was an issue.”

The silly joke managed to put a smile on Abbey’s face. “Sports wasn’t Jed’s strong suit. He’s more cerebral than physical.”

Dr. Abraham recognized the name. “Jed Bartlet? **_The_** Jed Bartlet, America’s boy genius? That’s who I operated on?”

Dan’s chest puffed out with fatherly pride. “That’s my boy.”

Nancy laughed. “He’s our son by marriage, well, future marriage.”

Dan shook his head. “No, he’s our son by God’s design. His own father isn’t a particularly kind man. He’s the one who beat Jed. You may notice, the man isn’t even here to see if his son survived.”

“So, you’re not legally his next of kin. I shouldn’t be talking about him to you.” It was true. The right to privacy was becoming a more pervasive issue in medicine. Abraham should only be sharing information with John Bartlet, Sr. “He’s not here?”

Abbey confirmed with, “I haven’t seen him since the ambulance left his father’s place. He was talking to police and probably talking his way out of what he’d done. He stomped his heel on Jed’s back I don’t know how many times.”

Dr. Abraham sighed. “Yeah, we were concerned about the kidney damage before surgery. It isn’t horrible, but any injury to the kidneys is worrisome. However, they were nearly fully functional when we finished up. He dodged a bullet. His hospital records here show a severe kidney injury when he was thirteen. Looks like he went through the dialysis well. He won’t need that this time. That’s good.”

Abbey was stunned. “What happened when he was thirteen?”

Abraham opened the file. “Says here he came upon three guys trying to rob the farm. They beat him very badly. Kidney injury, head injury, broken leg.” He came across the notation regarding the sodomy. “There are other things here that I don’t feel comfortable sharing without his permission.”

Dan wanted to know. “I’m a doctor. You just added me as a consultant on his case and I have to read the file.” He took the papers from the surgeon’s hand. Abraham tried to tug it back. Abbey’s father sighed. “You’re right. This is for him to tell us.”

“Dad, please. Just tell me.”

“No.” He handed the file back to the surgeon. “His father did this. The man has to be denied any access to Jed, not that I think he’d care enough to show up.”

“I don’t know what to say. I believe you, but the police reports say things happened a different way and I have to go by that.”

“Then expect to see me every day. If he comes here, I’ll keep him out.”

Nancy took Abbey’s hand. She would find out some other time.

Abbey asked the question she’d been wanting to ask “When can I see him?”

“He’s in recovery. Give him a few hours there and we’ll move him to a private room. Then you can see him. He’ll probably be fully conscious then, too.”

Nancy took over. “Then it’s time for dinner.”

“Can I just see him? Please, I just want to see him.”

Abbey stood outside the windowed recovery room. Jed lay inside attached to all sorts of monitors. His hair was rumpled and it made her grin. He turned incredibly boyish when that mess he called hair went every way it could. She watched his chest move up and down in a steady rhythm. When he moved his head a little bit, she almost squealed. Her palm pressed against the glass and she whispered, “I love you, Josiah.” The expression she wore reflected the excitement in her heart. It was going to be okay. It was going to be just fine.

Four days later, Jed waited for Abbey. He was sitting up, finishing a small sandwich. She was running late and he just had to see her. She finally walked in, her coat dripping from her dashing through the rain. “You got an ark we can use?” Before taking her coat off, she kissed Jed and brushed his hair back again.

He playfully batted her hands away. “You do that all the time.”

Her soaking coat was hung up and she looked adorable in jeans, knee-high boots and one of his Notre Dame sweatshirts.

Abbey kept chattering and not paying attention to her fiancé. His laughing caught her attention. “What’s so funny?”

“The kiss was nice, but you haven’t even said hello.”

This time the kiss was a lot longer and a lot more sexy. Her arms wrapped around him and he held her tight. She felt her heart beat on top of his. “You like that better?”

Inhaling her fragrance along with the scent of spring rain sent his passion over the top. They stayed in each other’s arms feeling their bodies respond in pleasure. His head lay at the crook of her neck. She buried her face in his hair. Separating, they both wore infectious smiles. “We haven’t done that in too long.”

“Can’t wait until we get a little more privacy.” He grabbed her again.

Timing was everything and Nurse Dorothy entered the room with a tray of medications. “Looks like I’m not really welcome, am I?” She put the tray on the night table. “How are you today, Abbey?”

She was feeling sassy and Jed enjoyed her sassy moments a whole lot. “A little damp, but otherwise quite well.”

Dorothy poured some water. “Did our boy show you his new trick?”

Jed was never good at secrets and his face beamed. “You’re spoiling my surprise.” He pulled the blanket off his legs. “Watch this.”

Abbey’s jaw started to quiver. “Really?”

With a bit of effort, Jed flexed toes on his left foot and then the right. The movement had no power, but it was there. Out of breath with the effort, he flung his arms to the side. “Ta da! The summa cum laude grad can move his toes. Put him on the cover of Newsweek.”

Abbey cried joyously and dotted his face with kiss after kiss. “I love you!” More little dots of happiness cropped up and mingled with his laughter.”

“You two hold on.” Dorothy had business to do. “You, sir, have to take your meds. Then I’ll leave you alone to do whatever you can decently do in a hospital room.”

Pills were popped and the nurse left Jed’s room making sure the door was closed on her way out.

The tiny moving of toes had Abbey bouncing around the room. She dashed to the end of the bed and touched his foot. “Do you feel that?” His laugh affirmed the touch. “Close your eyes. Don’t look” He followed orders and she tapped the sole of his foot four times. “How many times was that?”

No pause, no wondering, nothing to contemplate. He simply said, “Four. You want to try the other foot? It’s not as good, but ... “

“Your toes moved!”

If you think you’re happy now, check this out.” It was a strain, but he squinted his eyes in concentration and moved his left leg about an inch. “The right leg isn’t there, yet, but I’m going to walk”

The dance was literal this time. Abbey circled the room twirling and singing, “Nothing you could say could take me away from my guy. Nothing you could do ‘cause I’m stuck like glue to my guy.” Grabbing his hands, she pulled them back and forth in rhythm. “I’m sticking to my guy like a stamp to a letter, like birds of a feather, we stick together.” She began to spin like a child on a summer’s day. “I’m telling you from the start, I can’t be torn apart from my guy!”

He patted the bed. “Come up here with me.”

“Oh, we’re not ready for that. You’re still not well enough.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, girl. Just sit with me. Let me hold you and watch you cry happy tears.”

Abbey crawled into the bed, next to Jed. They didn’t talk. Proximity was enough. Their hearts beat in synchronicity and sleep eventually engulfed them.


	9. Back to His Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More revelations about Jed's father make it even harder to for the President to face his past and his future.

CJ heard the story of Jed’s last encounter with his father and couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “I mean, I believe you, Abbey but how was this kept secret?”

“It wasn’t.” Abbey tried to explain. “Jed’s father made the police report and it sounded plausible. You can look into Jed’s history and read that he fell and seriously hurt himself in 1966. That’s why he has back pain. The official reports are there and his injuries weren’t hidden.”

“No, how he got them was.” While she understood the reasons, CJ worried. “What else might be found out? I need it all, Abbey and I know he’s not telling me it all. These are investigative reporters. They’ll discover everything.”

Abbey had the last of the history but she didn’t want to give it. “It’s up to Jed to tell you the rest. I can’t do it without his permission or without his presence.”

Jed returned to his wife and CJ with Charlie in tow. The younger man carried a tray with three beers and three beer glasses. He asked, “Want me to pour?”

The President told him, “I’ll take it from here. Thanks.” Charlie left. Jed saw the expressions on the women’s faces. “Did I come back too soon?” They said nothing. “Too late?” He poured the beers. “Someone say something.”

Abbey took a sip of her O’Douls from the bottle. “We got through it all but CJ asked me if there was anything else and I told her I wouldn’t tell her. It was up to you. Your permission and presence were mandatory.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

More beer passed her lips. “Yes, you do.” Looking at CJ she said, “Tell him what you said to me about investigative reporters.”

CJ felt like she was being dragged into something she didn’t want to be dragged into. “They will dig and find out whether you want them to or not.”

Jed knew what Abbey meant. “Why would you ask me to talk about that? I never said that to anyone, not even you.”

CJ had to ask, “Then how did you find out?”

“Jed’s brother Jonathan told me. He thought it was important for me to know and he was right.”

“It’s not important at all.”

“Then tell CJ. If it’s not important, then just tell her. It only happened twice, right? What’s two times?”

The room began to spin. Jed sat down. “They won’t dig that up, will they?”

“I don’t know, Babe. I won’t tell them. CJ won’t either but if they do find out at least she’ll have a better feeling how to handle it.” Abbey moved in front of Jed and knelt. She made direct eye contact and held his hands. “Stop hiding. It’s your choice to throw him away completely or hang onto the horror of what he did.  It’s not his choice. Your choice.”

He leaned in closer and whispered. “I never said it aloud.”

“Then it’s time. You’re safe and we love you.”

Jed closed his eyes tightly and breathed slowly. With his head moving slowly from side to side and his eyes still closed, he softly said, “He took.” Then he stopped.

CJ walked to the First Couple. “Sir, I’m certainly not Abbey but I do love you. I won’t betray your trust.”

His eyes stayed closed. His head turn away from the women in front of him. “It only happened twice.” His anger built but it was anger at himself. “I let him. I let him do it.”

Abbey kissed him lightly. “You were a boy.”

It was as if Jed didn’t hear her. He was far into his head and searching for the simplest way to say the truth without remembering the pain. It came down to three words and even that was too many. “He pimped me.”

His wife grabbed him and held on, her tears sounding out his pain. It was a major miracle. He said it. He admitted to his father pimping him out.

Jed’s belly churned. “Abbey, I’m going to be sick.”

His vomiting was old news. He never had much of a constitution when it came to stomach issues. Abbey grabbed the beer glass and handed it to him. “Here.” She turned to CJ. “Go get a cool washcloth, okay?” CJ left and he threw up again. The glass held what little was left in his stomach. “Let it go, Jed. You did good.”

He finished out of breath. “Abbey, something’s wrong. I don’t know what but something’s wrong with me.”

CJ came back with the cool washcloth and a small wastebasket she found in the bathroom. “Thought this might be good if he keeps throwing up.”

Abbey wiped his face with the cloth. His body slumped a bit. “CJ, please don’t say anything not even to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thanking CJ, Abbey asked her to get Charlie.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jed was in bed running a fever, a cool cloth on his head, a basket at his side and five women and one young man standing over him worrying. In a voice far too insignificant for him, he whispered with a shudder in his voice, “Everyone, please go away.”

They unhurriedly left the bedroom. All of them moved into the adjacent parlor and sat close together. Ellie asked first, “What happened? He was so timid. My father isn’t timid.”

Liz looked angry. “That wasn’t timid. He was afraid. Mom, is grandfather the reason for this?”

Without a hesitation, Abbey said, “Yes, he is. This is a situation that’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

Zoey, daddy’s littlest girl, knew her father quite well. “But he’ll hide it. He won’t let us see what grandfather did. He’s going to be angry that we saw him puking and folding up.”

CJ thought the phrase fit perfectly. “Folding up. That’s what he did. I didn’t think I’d see Jed Bartlet fold up.”

Charlie didn’t like the picture. “What I saw was a man who didn’t feel well try to get past his father’s abuse the best way he could. I won’t bring it up to him.”

The girls agreed. So did Abbey and CJ but they knew their involvement was going to be altered. They knew why he folded up.

The Press Secretary asked, “Could I talk to Abbey privately?”

The other four started out. Liz said, “I want popcorn. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

When they were alone, CJ said, “I wanted to throw up myself. Let me be sure I heard what I heard. His father gave him to other people?”

“Other men. Jon saw Jed taken away by a truck with three men inside and he was dumped back at the farm about two hours later. Jed never told him what happened but the blood pretty much told him.”

“His father raped him with an axe handle and then peddled him to three men two other times.”

“All the while teaching him that Bartlets don’t cry and chastising him when he did. He was fourteen. If they find this out, he will die. I’m not joking about that. The shame he feels will kill him.”

“It’s not his shame. It belongs to his father.”

Abbey was so weary and sad. “He doesn’t see it that way. He still thinks it was his fault, that he wasn’t enough for his father.”

“How could a child like Josiah Bartlet not be enough for any parent?”

Abbey yawned. “Jealousy and mental illness make bad partners. His rage had to go somewhere and it landed on Jed. Jonny was pretty much spared his father’s wrath and that was horrible for Jon. He was always scared his father would start in on him and he was thankful it only happened to Jed. That was his form of abuse. It was emotional and psychological. Jed got both of those along with the beatings.”

CJ wanted to know, “What about his mother? Where was she?”

“The best that can be put together was that she had severe depression and slowly began to ignore the boys. Jed also believes she was physically abused though he’s not sure. When Jon was a toddler, she was sent to a mental institution and the boys never saw her again. She died when Jed was a freshman at Notre Dame. He hadn’t seen her for eight or nine years, he can’t remember, and wasn’t encouraged to attend the funeral.”

CJ’s mouth hung slightly open. “How did he overcome all this?”

“He hasn’t. It’s killing him just like MS is killing him. Just like this confession is killing him.”

“I have work to do.” CJ stood up. “There’s no Press Conference for him today. That’s a no-brainer.” The emotion she tried so hard to control finally broke through and she started to cry. “I’m so sorry, Abbey. The President, Danny, how could I have been so blind? As brilliant as all his other accomplishments are, if he can start a true dialogue to help stop this then I’d be thrilled that was his legacy.” Sniffing and wiping her eyes, she gave Abbey a hug. “He’s not on call today or tomorrow. I’ll take care of it.”

Abbey accepted the hug gratefully. “The only thing, CJ, is that Leo doesn’t know about the pimping stuff. You, Jon and I are the only ones who do.”

“And the President knows.” She turned her face to the floor. “Leo won’t hear about it from me.”

*****

Leo couldn’t stop beating himself up. Learning that his teenaged buddy Jed was only 13 bothered him terribly. He shouldn’t have been Jed’s friend. Fooled by IQ, Leo felt Jed was older. The kid was 13 and needed a big brother, not a buddy. Taking things personally was a dangerous trait for Leo. It made things he had no control over all his fault. Whispering, he sighed, “Thirteen.”

He didn’t hear Margaret come in. “Thirteen what?”

Secrets were out now. “The President was 13 when his father tried to beat him to death. I took him to the hospital.”

“Thank God he had you to help him.”

“Yeah, thank God.” The response was snarky and a bit of self-flagellation. “I left a child in the hands of a sadist.”

Margaret sat across from him at his desk. “Oh, get a hold of yourself. He didn’t want your help. He was smart enough to ask you to stay if he wanted you to.”

“He wouldn’t have done that. Thank God for Mr. and Mrs. Landingham.”

Leo sat back losing the present in memories of perceived incompetence. There was concern on Margaret’s face. “Leo, you’re taking this terribly hard and I can see why but I want to ask you something.”

He raised his eyes to meet hers. “What?”

“Were you abused, too?”

He thought for a few moments and admitted, “I guess my father committing suicide could be seen as emotional and psychological abuse but I was never hit by either parent.” Leo looked into Margaret’s eyes and put a half-smile on his face. “I’ve said this before to you. I hope you know I mean it. You’re a good girl. Thanks for asking.”

She didn’t know what to say but “Thank you” seemed appropriate. “Do you need anything, Leo?”

“No. I’m going to check on the President and go home. It is Saturday after all.”

“I’ll be in tomorrow around eight. Is that okay?”

“You don’t work on Sunday.”

“This is different. This is more like helping out a friend.” Before Leo could say another thing, she was out of his office and starting to shut down her computer.

With a sigh and a yawn, Leo slowly stood up and made his way into the Oval Office. He looked at the giant chair behind the giant desk and considered the small physical stature of the man who sat there. “If I’d of known, Jed, I wouldn’t have asked you to run. You’ve paid too high a price. Someday you’ll forgive me. Someday maybe I’ll forgive me.” He went out the door leading to the hallway and followed the path to the Residence.

******

It wasn’t late but the day felt like it was on hour 36. Jed’s fever responded to some Advil and Compazine helped his gut. The medication was relatively new on the market but seemed to be the best for Jed’s system. He had odd reactions to medications and it sometimes took time to get his dosages correct. He usually needed three Advil to help a fever, not two despite his small size. Compazine needed a bit heavier dose but it helped his perpetually queasy stomach. He loved to eat but he had stomach trouble at least twice a month and it would last a few days each time.

While he could get through the most difficult international negotiations without any pains, in times of stress, his stomach became a continual source of trouble. His current situation certainly threw his stress into overdrive. The hassle with food left him weakened. His head hurt. His stomach wanted food but the idea of more spewing turned him from eating.

He kept his eyes closed wanting anyone who was with him in the room to leave him alone. Alone was what he wanted and still it wasn’t going to happen soon. All his mind wanted to concentrate on was the farm. He didn’t ride like Zoey but he could stay on Praeses, his roan Standardbred, and liked getting lost in the woods where no one was around. Then his heart sank again. No one around except the 40 Secret Service men protecting him.

His confession occupied every synapse in his brain. Finally he realized that it didn’t matter where he was. The memories, the admissions, the need to disappear stayed with him everywhere. Pretty simple to recognize but his mind was being battered again and he was unable to stop beating himself up.

Time for faking sleep ended and he opened his eyes. He gratefully saw Abbey and only Abbey sitting with him. The quiet voice was still with him. “What time is it? Still Saturday?”

Her book closed and she got up in one quick move. She ended up sitting next to him and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Still Saturday but it’s mid evening, about 8:30.”

“I won’t sleep tonight. Damn.”

“Don’t worry. I believe in better living through chemistry.”

He noticed the IV needle in his hand. “Again? What am I mainlining now?”

“The usual. Saline, steroids, Compazine and Betaseron.” She leaned over and gently kissed him. “CJ isn’t going to schedule you to speak until at least Monday afternoon.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I have to be the President, not my father’s son.” Sitting up threw him off. It was too hard. A sharp pain stabbed his back. “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

Snapping out in anger, “Nothing.” He wasn’t going to talk any more. It was time to bury it all and get back to how he functioned on Thursday. He pulled off the blanket and moved his legs.

“Don’t get up, Jed.”

He lied to her, “I need the bathroom.”

“You going to throw up?”

“I’m going to pee, okay?” His feet landed on the floor and he pushed up to stand. Success was not his. He stumbled a bit and fell back on the bed. “Shit!” his voice was getting bigger.

She grabbed his cane and tried to hand it to him. “Don’t get stubborn. Use it.” Holding it out to him earned her a pointed look but he took it, grumbling something she couldn’t understand.

The cane took a lot of his weight and he got to both feet. Before taking any steps, he grounded himself. A wave of dizziness swept past him and he walked slowly into the bathroom. After taking care of business, he washed his hands and then started in on his face.

Staring into the mirror he saw the reflection of a boy, not a man. The hair was darker but it still fell over his brow with abandon. There was no happiness in that face. All he saw was fear. His back stabbed at him again, a new stripe from his father. His body cringed and moaned. Throwing more water on his face started to fade the boy into the man. A washcloth rubbed hard in the soap and he scrubbed at the image he wanted to forget.

Eventually the President appeared in the mirror. Staring into his own eyes he concentrated on burying the past. He’d told Abbey he was the President and he had to start acting like it. Bury it again. Bury it all. That had worked for decades. It would work again. He wouldn’t be talking about anything to anyone at all. This announcement, his revelations wouldn’t stop him from completing his Presidential schedule. Confession was over and he was hungry.

Using the cane made him more surefooted. He used it to stand tall and take back his life. It turned into swagger which pleased Abbey - at first. Suddenly she witnessed the turning off of his memories, his past was getting buried again. She watched him kick away the events of the last two days and disappear into the Jed Bartlet that only had the worries of the world on his shoulders, on Josiah Bartlet, President. It was a remarkable change and she got frightened.

She watched him walk into the living room where he turned on ESPN looking for game to watch. The chair across from him seemed too empty, so she sat directly in his line of sight. “Are you done?”

A puzzle showed up on his face. “Done with what?”

“Don’t play games, Jed. This is too important.”

He wasn’t belligerent. He showed no anger. Covering his rage with Presidential purpose was working. The weakness and poverty in his soul was fading away into a dark hole in his soul. “There is no importance. I am who I am. Nothing will change that. It all has to go away where I put it before. So, we’ll watch a game or a movie. I don’t care. Whatever you’d like. I’m getting hungry. I could use a sandwich and some ginger ale.”

“I’m not your servant girl, Jed.”

He tried to look contrite. “Sorry. It’s just a relief to move onto better things.”

“Like Notre Dame b-ball.”

He switched through a few channels and found his alma mater beating Michigan. “Look at the score. Michigan is done. Bragging rights are mine tomorrow.”

She hated what he was saying. “Tomorrow is Sunday. Leo doesn’t come in on Sunday.”

He shrugged and picked up the phone. “This is the President. Would you have the kitchen send up some sandwiches?” He listened a few seconds. “I don’t know. Roast beef with some horseradish sauce. Thanks.”

“That’s it?”

“They’ll send up some potato salad or something.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She pulled the chair directly in front of him. There was no view of the television. “You’re turning off everything that’s happened. You’re walking away.”

He stared into her eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn’t and don’t give me hero for America’s children crap. It’s my life and I’m tired of giving it to whomever has a pad of paper and a pencil. I wasn’t elected to be an open book.” His voice grew. “I have to get back to the job I was elected to. I’m not here to be exalted or pitied. I have MS and my fucking father hated me! Let it go!” His tirade continued. “This gigantic mistake I made last night will blow over and it will be done. I’m not talking about it again with you, with Stanley, Leo, CJ. I don’t give a damn who. It is over. Do we have any ginger ale in the kitchen?”

“Get it yourself, jackass.” The chair returned to its position and she walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay but I was back in the hospital again. Hopefully. chapter ten will be up within another week.


	10. Nothing Stays the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More revelations about Jed's father create a wall between Jed and his coming clean over his abuse.

The staff knew something was going on when only Mrs. Bartlet went to mass on Sunday morning. The gossip was illness, the Commander in Chief was under the weather, feeling ill from his Friday night confession. No one was surprised. They admired his courage so much that their only disappointment was not being able to cheer as he walked by.  
The weather defied her mood. A beautiful sunny day lay ahead but not in the Bartlet house. Abbey, accompanied by her detail, walked through the portico outside the Oval. She didn’t glance in. If he was there, she’d add to her anger. If he wasn’t, she’d add to her worry. The previous night was filled with hours of searching for a good reason for Jed’s seemingly instantaneous turnabout in attitude. She stopped thinking about it. She blamed it on his emotional overload. It made sense in a situation that made no sense from the very beginning so many decades ago.

He was showering when she left for mass that morning. Not even bothering to say good-bye, she walked out of the Residence. Her anticipation of the day was too confusing so she tried to get it out of her head. As much as she didn’t like it, Jed was back in control and, knowing him, it wasn’t going to go well.

When she got back into Residence he didn’t seem to be there. “Jed?” The sitting room was empty. So was the bedroom. Concern covered her in trepidation. Then she heard the shower still running. Trepidation turned to fear. Dropping her jacket and purse on the floor, she ran in.

She found him sitting on the shower seat, the water still spilling over him. It was almost a relief. “Jed, what happened?” He shook his head and waved her away. Leaning in, she turned off the water. He turned it back on. “You’ve been in there over 90 minutes.” She turned it off again.

He snapped at her, “You paying the water bill around here?”

It was done. She was done. “Snark all you want. What happened? The truth and forget all the blowhard crap. Talk to me.”

A full minute passed. Then a second one. Abbey didn’t give in. He was going to make the next move. She left the room to change her clothes. Sitting there without her, without the water, without any distraction, he hung his head and grabbed a towel. Drying off seemed the right thing. Starting with his dripping head, the towel rubbed his thick hair. Rubbed and rubbed, over his face wiping out the stain of tear tracks. Abbey couldn’t know about that. He cried when his babies were born and that was it. He wasn’t a crier and he didn’t want to start now. He stayed in the shower to cover the vomiting and hoped the stench was gone. Flipping into President mode wasn’t going to as easy as he thought. Still, it was what he had to do. Over 52 million people trusted him with caring for them. His needs didn't have to be met. Theirs did. The tears silently started again. The towel covered them but the tilt of his sagging shoulders and the slight shaking gave away his new secret

Abbey walked in barefoot wearing jeans and one of his sweatshirts. No words came from her. Closing the lid on the toilet, she sat across from him and continued her waiting. The internal fight was telling her to enfold him in her arms but that would be giving in to his wants. At the moment, she doubted he had the ability to decide what was best for him. She waited and waited until he made the next move.

His towel ended up on the floor and he took another from the rack. Wrapping it around his waist, he left the bathroom to find appropriate clothing for the Oval Office on Sunday. That meant he could go casual with clothes that matched his wife’s jeans and shirt. While she wore a navy blue sweatshirt, the one he wanted was bright red, fire engine red, beyond scarlet. Abbey, still saying nothing, watched him comb through his plethora of red shirts as he searched for the brightest one.

Red was strong. So was he. Red didn’t give up. Red was fire. Red put fear into his enemies. His posture had to be tough if he wore red. The shirt pulled on over bare skin. His spine straightened and the unforgiving attitude he projected screamed command. The last two days of his life were taken from him and that would not be his future.

Abbey was surprised at the choice. Notre Dame sent him boxes of their wear and he always said this one was too bright for his taste. “So the word for today is vibrant? It looks better on than in the drawer except today it picks up the red in your eyes.”

A brown leather belt got threaded through the loops on his jeans. He got some socks and tied on his sneakers. “I’ll be in the Oval.”

She gave in and asked, “What happened in the shower?”

A mumble told her the subject was closed as he said, “Nothing.”

His rage was too internal and he was hurting himself. Abbey could see a shift in his attitude. Jed wanted to bury everything but too many people knew his history and what he wanted was never going to happen. More because of habit than anything else, he placed a passive kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be in the Oval for a while. I’ll be back for dinner. We can talk then, maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

It was an acquiescence and still a bit promising. Abbey tried to grab his hand but he moved away too fast. She sat there watching him go out into the world alone, without someone at his side since the whole ordeal started. It seemed encouraging in some ways. In others it wasn’t.

To the woman who loved him beyond all understanding, it looked like he was trying to disappear. She walked to her dresser and opened the top drawer. She took out a small black velvet pouch, pulled out a simple wooden rosary and knelt in the corner to pray. Holding the crucifix in her hand, she made the sign of the cross and said, “I believe in God the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth and in Jesus Christ, His only son our Lord.”

Remaining on her knees she prayed the Rosary devoting her meditations to the second Sorrowful Mystery. It seemed to reflect the situation Jed was going through, the mystery of Jesus’ scourging. When completing the last decade of Hail Mary prayers, she ended up speaking out loud, “Hail Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy, our life, our sweetness, our hope. To Thee we cry, poor banished children of Eve.” Swallowing down the words that now held even more meaning, she completed her prayers in stillness. The Rosary ended up back in its pouch and in the drawer.

Abbey rarely felt at a loss but her body became numb. Knowing what to do wasn’t possible. When she got home from mass, Jed had been in the shower washing away his pain. It seemed like a good example. As she walked toward the bathroom, she tossed her sweatshirt on the floor just like Jed would. It was relaxing bath time with that scented oil Jed liked. Cyndi Lauper sounded through the bathroom speakers and she brought in her book. The next hour was hers alone with David McCullough and she absolutely had to have it or, well, she didn’t know.

Jed made his way into the Oval avoiding everyone except his ever-too-present detail. Fortunately, their instructions were to leave him alone, concentrate on what was around him. When he got to the outer office, Debbie was at her desk. “Good afternoon, sir. I wasn’t sure you’d be in today.”

“I didn’t think you’d be here. You can go home if you want.”

“I’ll leave when you leave. Do you need anything?”

He opened the door to his office and told her, “Bring me some iced tea. No caffeine and no sugar or lemon.” Stepping into the office, he stopped and looked at her. “Sorry. My manners aren’t working well. Please, may I have some iced tea and unless it’s a Sit Room issue, I don’t want to see anyone. Anyone at all.”

“Of course, Mr. President.”

The word he usually used to describe Debbie was “wacko” but this woman had instincts he liked. One of those was her ability to treat him with the greatest or least respect he needed at any particular time. Knowing he had to be in charge today had her calling him by that powerful title “Mr. President.” It fed his esteem.

The Resolute Desk held all the papers from the attempts at speechwriting for his Friday night confession. Carefully he gathered them all up. He didn’t dare look at what they had tried to write. Getting rid of those words had to be. The papers were dumped into the trash. The final page landed face up. He turned it over and pushed down the stack until it crumpled into an illegible mess.

He sat at his desk. There was legislation he wanted passed. Then Kashmir was getting into trouble and he wanted to arrange a meeting with the leaders. The war on drugs was still being fought at a loss. It was time to start thinking about the next election and who would be taking his place. No, that one was out. Not now. Kashmir became his focus. It was important for peace in that part of the world. Their turmoil effected the United States because of the volatility of Kashmir’s neighbors. The situation needed his intervention and had nothing to do with child abuse, sex trafficking or his Friday night confession.

He was reading through intense documents that confounded most other readers including Leo, Josh, the Secretaries of Defense, State, and the Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. There was a solution, a potential solution and he started to write.

The words flew from his brain onto the paper in front of him. First drafts were like that. Always in long-hand. He told people the words were inside his head and his hand had to put down first thoughts. A computer was detached from him. Always long-hand. Debbie would type it up, give him the file name and a hard copy, he’d talk over the project with Toby and they would expand the text.

The document felt like an accomplishment. It was Presidential. He started to see a way out of his fears. He didn’t know CJ and Leo were in the office next door trying to figure out what to do about a new complication.

******  
She had trouble sitting down. Agitation kept her on her feet. “Leo, what is he going to say about this? He’s already told them he didn’t know.”

“Who’s making the accusation?”

“Alan Petersen.”

“I don’t know that name.”

“Because you don’t read The Express Truth.”

Leo was even more confused. “Read it? I never heard of it.”

“It’s sleaze pure and simple. All sleaze all the time. You think the Enquirer is bad? This one makes that one a Pulitzer winner.”

He sat back in his chair and sipped some coffee. “You think people are going to read it?”

“Of course, they are. Petersen said he’s quoting a former student of the academy who was there at the same time the President was. He’ll dredge up more students, too. You can take that to the bank.” CJ finally sat down. “Leo, the President has to know about this and we have to defend his memories. If by some chance this guy is accurate, and that’s not necessarily the case, then we’re opening up a big can of whup-ass for the President. If you think he’s going through hell now, you don’t know the half of it.”

Picking up the phone he asked Margaret to get the Residence for him. Then he added, “And get me Stanley Keyworth.”

Nodding, CJ stuttered out, “That’s a good idea.”

Abbey picked up the ringing phone and heard Leo telling her his most recent concern. She blanched at his telling her why he was calling. “Oh, God. Leo, he’s in the Oval. Has been for maybe three hours.

On his end, he shook his head. “Debbie never told me he was in.”

“I’m coming down. I’ll meet you in your office. We have to work out a plan. I got to call Stanley, too.”

“Already did. Should we wait until he shows up?”

This news would do something to Jed but she had no clue what that might be. Help was needed and the person she wanted was no longer with them. In her head she spoke to Jed’s personal earthly savior. “Mrs. Landingham, maybe you know the truth. If you did maybe you could help your boy. I don’t think he’ll let me.” Walking back into the bathroom, she removed her makeup knowing nothing was uglier than drippy mascara and eyeliner. She figured she’d be doing some crying.

Twenty minutes later after changing again, she found herself in Leo’s office. He was saying, “Stanley will be here in five minutes.”

Abbey sat on the couch where she first confessed Jed’s MS years ago. It seemed the right place to sit. “Is this reporter professional? Is he legitimate?”

“CJ doesn’t think so, but the President has to hear the story and we have to be prepared to respond.”

“So, even if it’s all a lie we have to answer it.”

CJ took a second to gather her response. “No, Ma’am. We don’t have to. He does.”

A knock at the door brought Stanley into the group. Leo asked him, “What do we do? We don’t know how he’ll react.”

Abbey recalled the stifled relationship they were having since the previous night. “He’s decided to close himself off from all this. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone about it again. He said he had to go back to being the President and not a battered boy. That’s why he’s here working. Knowing Jed, you’ll see some of his finest work on his desk right now. He does great things when he’s hiding. That’s how he got the North Korea Summit, hiding from multiple sclerosis.”

“And ma’am, that almost killed him.”

Abbey smiled a bit. “Of course, CJ. He was staring at the end of his life and he wasn’t going to let it be meaningless.”

Stanley set out a kind of plan. “He has to be told we’re on our way in. Seeing us en masse without forewarning doesn’t give him time to prepare for what he knows is bad news.”

CJ wanted to know, “Who should tell him?”

With a Keyworth smirk, “You won’t like this.”

With a shrug that took three inches off her six feet of height, CJ moaned, “Oh, hell.”

“Dr. Bartlet is his wife. She has to be support. Leo saved his life. He’s part of the initial experience. If I tell him, then he can stick it into the therapy column. It has to be you, CJ. He loves you and trusts you. He knows you won’t lie.”

Now they all knew their parts. Leo picked up the phone and punched a few numbers. “Debbie, we need to see the President.”

She answered with her bosses words. “He told me not to interrupt him unless there was a Sit Room problem.” After hearing a short explanation, she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “I’ll let him know that you’ll be right in.”

Debbie knocked on the Oval Office and heard a “Come in” before opening the door.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir. Leo, Dr. Bartlet, CJ and Dr. Keyworth would like to talk to you. They’re in Leo’s office. May I send them in?”

He looked at Leo’s door. “I told Abbey to let it go. Why is she conspiring behind my back? It’s a damned intervention.”

“Sir, they need to see you about a new problem that’s come up. There’s no conspiracy. May I send them in?”

After a deep sigh, he looked a bit sheepish. “I‘m a little paranoid, Debbie. Sorry. Things will get back to normal soon.”

As she approached Leo’s connecting door, she murmured, “From your mouth to God’s ears.” She opened the door and with a sweep of her arm, escorted the group in and walked behind them to her office keeping the door open.

Abbey walked over to him, gave him a kiss on his forehead and wiped away non-existent lipstick in a move that was habit rather than need. It was also one of her sneaky ways to check him for fever. That was questionable but the kiss was a genuine projection of her affection. “Jed, maybe you should come sit on the couch with us.”  
He went back to his sardonic side. “So, this is intervention time?”

She hated talking when he was in this kind of mood. “Can it, Jed. We have some information you have to hear.”

Abbey’s demeanor made his facial expression change. No muscles seemed to move but the smart ass was gone. It wasn’t quite fear but certainly not the confidence he wanted. Standing up, he took his wife’s hand and they sat on the couch. Then they watched everyone else sit down. CJ sat closest to them and began the story.

“Mr. President, have you heard of a newspaper called the Express Truth?” He shook his head. “No reason for you to. They’re a rag with a worse reputation for accuracy than the Enquirer.”

It took less than a second for him to ask, “What did they say about me?”

CJ got up and walked to his side. Sitting on the floor so she could meet his eyes, she told him, “It’s not so much you. Well, it is but.” Trying to put the words together properly had her stuttering.

“Just tell me. I won’t break.”

“It’s more about your father. This reporter has a statement from a former student at your prep school. He says your father would hit him and that you knew all about it. He said you were beaten, too. He also said he tried to make a police report and that you denied it all when the police questioned you. That got him beaten even harder. He’s blaming you for not stopping your father and he says he knows other men who were beaten by Dr. John Bartlet.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Yes, sir but it’s going to come up again very soon like at the next press conference. It will be hammered on and I have to help you craft a response.”

The President’s reaction was unexpected. For the first time in days, he laughed. “That son of a bitch is cackling down in hell. Just when I think he can’t screw with me anymore he comes up with this.”

The silence in the room was oppressive. Jed’s silence was especially troubling. His eyes proved he was aware of what was said and was processing the ramifications. The rest of the group simply stared and waited. The lack of din was startled when Debbie entered with an armload of bottled water. “Thought these might help.” She put them on the coffee table and left.

Jed was a bit too far away. “CJ, hand me a bottle.” He cracked it open and downed nearly the entire 12 ounces. “Looks like I was thirsty.”

Leo grabbed a bottle for himself. “Me, too.” As he twisted the cap, he told his best friend, “This means you have to have another press conference.”

“No. Abbey can tell you I made the decision not to address this again and I made that decision before this prime bit of lying tattle-tale news.”

She wanted to corroborate his admission. “He did say that.”

CJ, still at his feet, told him, “If you don’t, sir, it will seem like you’re hiding the truth. We have to address this. It’s not so much that he may have hurt other boys.”  
Leo grumbled, “That’s not enough?”

CJ barked at him and rattle on in one huge breath, “Of course, it’s enough but if they put blame on the President for not doing anything to stop his father, then the support he has will start to pull away and it will turn into a father/son conspiracy that someone will convolute into a group activity the President shared with his father.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Abbey argued. “He never hurt a child in his life.”

“I’m not saying he did. I’m just trying to anticipate how ugly this will get. We need a strategy that proves this moron is lying.”

Leo stood up. “Start with me. I went to that school. His bastard father was not the kindest man to the boys there. I got called in enough to know that but he never put a hand on me. I was never hit with anything other than cruel words. He didn’t like charity cases and I was one. Not only that, I made friends with Jed. That was way down on his list of good things. And no kid there told me about getting hit. I will swear to that on a Bible.”

CJ started thinking. “Okay, Leo. That’s our opener. You going to school there is a big help.” She looked again at the President. “They’re going to want to talk to you. I know you don’t want to do that but we can’t get around it.”

“I won’t do it.”

“You have to.”

“No, I don’t.”

Leo sadly told him, “If you don’t, your presidency is over.”

He held Abbey’s hand tighter. “It’s over already.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I got a headache and I earned it honestly. I got to get out of here.”

Abbey looked at Dr. Keyworth. “We’ll go back to the residence. Maybe Stanley can come with us.”

“You don’t understand. I have to get out of Washington for a few days. I can’t be here. I have to go home.”

The idea didn’t sound like the right thing for the President and Stanley said so. “You leave now and it will be because you were afraid to confront this. I can’t blame you if you are and I think that’s the situation. Stay and we might be able to quell all the conjecture before it gets too far out of hand. I will move into the Lincoln bedroom if you want me to be available 24/7.”

The tormenting face of his father made its home in Jed’s mind. “I’ll never be free from this. I wanted to be President. I guess I never was.” He tried to stand up but his legs failed him. “I can’t find my balance and I don’t know if it’s MS or morbid fear and I mean morbid.” His breathing grew leaden as the eyes of all in the room watched him. “Am I performing as expected, Dr. Keyworth? How would the normal average man react to all this?” No one answered him. “I guess I’ve never been normal. Damn, I wish I knew what that felt like.”

*****

CJ sat in her office and internally debated her next move. Without more information, she had no clue what to do. The President was not willing to say any more about his father and all she had was the one article written in the Express Truth. Mumbling she said, “What a stupid name for a paper.”

Searching the second page, she found the information box showing the editorial staff, the location of the offices and contact information. There it was, the telephone number and the editor’s name. “Alan Peterson, you are a sleaze and you will not be allowed to attack my President. I will take you down.”

She dialed the phone, half expecting to be sent into voice mail. It was late Sunday and it was a huge surprise when on the second ring a male voice said, “Yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s how you answer a phone?”

“Yeah. What do you want?”

“I want you to stop telling lies about my President.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He started to hang up when he heard her continue.

“This is CJ Cregg. You know my name?”

With a smarmy grin he put the phone back to his ear. “Cregg? You trying to silence the free press?”

“You’re telling lies. That’s not news and will only hurt real attempts to decrease the incidence of child abuse in this country.”

In his office, Peterson put his feet on his desk and leaned back in self-assurance. “So the poor battered President sends a girl to stand up for him? What an asshole. Can’t even find the guts to fight for himself. Oh well, what would you expect from a coward looking for sympathy? I got proof. I got four students who were there.”

Now she knew how many students she was up against. “So give me names. You want to make accusations? Give us the names of the accusers.”

“Right. Nice try. Bartlet will finally pay for his part in the abuse. You sure he hasn’t fucked his daughters? They’re awfully pretty.”

“You’re disgusting. The Secret Service will take care of you and these accusers you paid off to lie. You’re done, Peterson. You will never take this President down. Never. Do you get that?”

Peterson laughed. “Sure, sweetie pie. You tell the sad little boy with the whip marks on his back that no one gives a shit about him. He stood by while he and his father beat other boys. We got proof.”

“You got nothing but lies and you’ll find jail filled with jerks just like you.” She slammed down the receiver and yelled out, “Ah!” Her last remark was dumb but there was no good retort to his propaganda. “God, that was stupid of me. What did I do? What did I just do?”

 


	11. Chapter Eleven - Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jed and Abbey go to New Hampshire to calm the furies they're being troubled by.

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Home Sweet Home

For Jed Bartlet, being normal meant doing farm chores like caring for his animals, milking cows, mucking horse stalls. Not very Presidential but back to the core of his identity, American farmer. Despite all the accolades his family possessed, the bottom line was their connection to the earth, to their farms. Even four-time great-grandfather, another Dr. Josiah Bartlett, ran a farm in between nursing patients, being the first Governor of New Hampshire and signing the Declaration of Independence. The current Josiah wanted to be home. It was important for his soul to reconnect with his heritage.

CJ managed to appease the press. When President Bartlet returned, he would hold a press conference and answer the accusations. Before that, Leo would hold a similar conference talking about his experiences with Dr. John Bartlet. Josh and Will had the assignment of putting together research about child abuse and the specifics in the medical history of their President when a boy and after the tossing down the stairs as a young adult. So far, so good.

Jed and Abbey sat in the back seat of the limousine driving from the Manchester Airport to Awasiwi Odinak, far from the things of man. The Native American phrase placed the farm away from the city, exactly where Jed wanted to be. He sat back, his eyes closed looking to be asleep but that was a fraud he wanted to perpetrate. If he could have been honest, he didn’t even want Abbey with him.

Abbey knew him well enough to know she wasn’t wanted on this trip but she would not let him be alone. Right now, he wanted to turn off from people, an unusual occurrence for this rope-line marauder. Tomorrow, he might be in a different world and that’s why she insisted he not be alone. Looking over at the love of her life, she started speaking. “I know you’re faking the sleep thing, so I’ll assume you’re listening and, I warn you, don’t tune me out.” His hand was in reach and she touched it, then grasped it. “Hiding out here is just that, Babe. You’re hiding but there’s no hiding anymore especially here. You’re going back to where he beat you. The barn still stands there. His ghost is there. I know you think you’re safe but safety isn’t anywhere. You can never run from yourself and I will always be at your side. So will your daughters and Leo and Charlie, CJ, Josh, Toby, Debbie, Will, Margaret, Donna and I could keep going. You’re not alone.”

She was right. He could not ever be alone. Even isolated out in a nowhere with no other human being within miles he had his father. Out of the blue, he stammered, “I want to be President.”

Abbey didn’t know why he said those words and answered with the obvious. “You are President whether you like it or not.”

With his eyes finally opening, he looked at the woman he trusted as much as he trusted God, “I know I am. I mean I want to behave like a President again. I have to ground myself and that’s easier out here.” He scooted over and lay his head on her shoulder. “I got to get out of little boy mode. I feel like I’m eight years old. Damn, I need you now, Abbey, like I never needed you before.”

She stroked his face. “Well, Jed, I’m not your mother. After all the boys who wanted me, I chose to love you as my husband. I can’t be your mother. I can’t even be a replacement for Mrs. Landingham. However, I meant it when I said I will be with you forever. You willing to accept that?”

It sounded weird to him but after a second of thought, he understood. “So you’ll tell me off when you want to.” He accompanied his remark with a slight smile.

“Oh, not only when I want to, my sweetheart, but when I don’t even feel like it.” She kissed him long and hard. Warmth spread through her and into him. It was a connection they needed to make. It confirmed their vows yet again. They stayed in each other’s arms until they arrived at the home where they had begun their lives together decades earlier. For the first time in days, Jed felt relaxed, though hesitantly relaxed.

It was late afternoon, time for dinner, watching a good movie together with time for making out in the theater room balcony, bed with benefits and then an early morning working the barn before breakfast; a coveted schedule that got Jed wearing a smile throughout the remainder of that day and into the next.

In the morning, the weather was cooperating. The snowfall from the previous week still lingered on the rolling pastureland. The sun warmed the air just enough. It was perfection in a New Hampshire winter’s day. Jed got to the barn and found the riding horses being attended to by the farm staff. He grabbed bags of feed and helped out and talked to the woman hired to maintain the stable. “They’re looking really good. Did Jifka’s tendon heal?”

Jifka, named after JFK, was the stable’s senior citizen, a gorgeous black beauty of a horse and a personal favorite of the President. Sarah Birky answered her boss, “The tendon is doing fair but he’s slowing down, sir. I’m not sure he’ll make it to summer. He’s 22 years old and . . .” She didn’t want to use the word.

“Yeah, he’s at the end of it, isn’t he?” Jed petted the old friend. “You can’t do this to me, Jifka. I need you.” The horse nestled his head in Jed’s hair. “Yeah, stay with me as long as you can, boy. I can’t lose you now.” Stepping back, he patted the horse on the neck. “Sarah, I’m going in for some breakfast. After that I want to take Praeses for a ride.”

“Will Dr. Bartlet with going with you? Should I saddle Calypso?”

“Not sure. I’ll let you know.”

Sarah wanted him to see something. “Mr. President, I want to show you a new saddle purchase. It’s interesting.” They moved to the tack room where Sarah pointed at the saddle. “It’s called a flexible tree saddle. The bars have bend to them which is more comfortable for the horse. I tried one last summer and I really liked the feel of it. So did the horse. Want to try it today?”

He inspected the bars on the fork and cantle. “Looks good. It’s better for the horse?”

“It appears to be more comfortable.”

“Yeah I’d like to try it but not today. I’m used to my saddle and in this snow I’d rather not worry about falling off. I’m not the rider my wife and daughters are. Save it for a nice, clear spring day.” He smiled at her.

She smiled back. “Yes sir, Mr. President.”

In the house, he found Abbey in a kitchen smelling of maple sausage. She was cracking eggs into a bowl. “Good morning, Jed. How do you want your eggs?”

Channeling Ozzie and Harriet, he stood behind her and put his hands on her waist. “How you going to make them?” He kissed her neck and added, “Or how do you want to make me?”

She turned to chuckle at him. With very flat humor she said, “Oh yeah, come on big boy, make my day.” His laugh was the most real joy she’d heard since before the weekend. “Eggs, Jethro, how do you want them? I’d prefer to poach them but today I’ll even do over easy in butter.”

He peered into oven and watched biscuits rise. In bewilderment, he asked, “With biscuits and sausage gravy?” It was an unusual offering from his heart-healthy wife. “You trying to kill me?”

“No, just trying to keep you from killing me for poaching your eggs.”

He sat down at the table. “Sunnyside up. A compromise, only half the butter.”

“Which will go on the biscuits, right?” He playfully nodded. “It’s a bad food day, so I’m glad you’re working the barn.” She pulled a frying pan from the lower cabinet. “Just don’t sprain anything important.”

“Important? Yeah, that kind of exercise burns up a lot of calories.”

She heated up the frying pan. “That’s for later, Casanova. Work your ass off today. I’m making something very special tonight. I have to go into town and do some shopping.”

“Tell me.”

“Nope. Just know that it won’t disappoint. My only unanswered question is what shall I make for dessert?”

He laughed again. “Just make it chocolatey, caramelly, and lickable.”

The anticipation made her giggle. “Good Lord, you have a one track mind.”

He smiled regretfully. Other thoughts showed up without an invitation. A small boy cried. Jed saw a child with navy blue eyes and disobedient hair in the corner of the kitchen protecting a bruised face. “Not one track, my love. At least two.” He was pissed.

The pan was pulled off the heat and she went to him, sitting on his lap. “It’s okay, Jed. You won’t be able to get him totally out of your mind today. We’ll have lots of fun time but he can’t leave you alone until you work at making that happen.” Her sitting on his lap always made him happy but he wasn’t coming back very quickly or even at all. “Jed, you wanted to be here to gain some strength, to return to the Presidency you were elected to.”

It wasn’t a solution but it was a way to refocus. She continued. “Every time you feel your bastard father’s presence, recite the oath you took on inauguration day. Do it now. What did you promise your country?”

It was a ruse and he knew that but it made sense. If he wanted to get back to governing, he had to recognize his responsibility. His voice tried for strength and purpose. “I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of the President of the United States and will,” he stopped knowing the next words would be hard for him, “to the best of my Ability,” did he have any ability anymore? “preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

Hearing him speak those words filled her with pride. “My God, look what the people of this country asked you to do. They picked you to be President of the United States.”

He held her tightly. “Today was going good. I was even going riding after breakfast. Want to come with me?”

“You want me to?”

He pushed away a little. “I don’t know.”

She kissed his forehead. “Let me finish cooking. You can decide later.”

Breakfast was even more perfect because she cooked it. They were just a couple in their home having breakfast. He cleaned off the table while she wrote a shopping list. Wanting her with him won out. The housekeeper would be sent to the store. Calypso would be saddled along with Praeses.

Work boots and slippers got replaced with riding boots. She wanted him to put on a hat. “You’ll get sick.”

“I hate hats.”

“No, you don’t. You hate hat hair. At least put on a scarf.”

No sense arguing. With an obligatory harrumph he threw the scarf around his neck and slipped into sheepskin gloves. He held open the door into the yard. “After you, my love.”

She exited, walked down the few steps picking up snow from the railing. When she reached the bottom, she turned and hurled her snowball into his face. “Gotcha! Gotcha!” She ran toward the stable and he ran after her. Abbey grabbed another handful of snow and prepared to get him again. She turned in time to see him trip over whatever it was he always tripped over and land face down in the snow. “Jed!”

He was a klutz but snow exacerbated that trait. He was always falling into thick snow. His middle girl, his Ellie, insisted he did it on purpose and he never seemed to deny it. Abbey got to his side and helped him to his feet. “You okay?”

It was a hoax. He picked up his wife and threatened to drop her into a huge pile of shoveled snow. “I got you!”

“Drop me and you die.” She laughed when he pretended to throw her in the snow. “Don’t you dare!”

Gently, he put her down. “Race you!” and he ran toward the stables.

Sarah led Praeses out next to Calypso. She was happy to see her boss acting like a kid and being silly with his wife. This was the President she liked to see. She held onto the reins of the two quarter horses in front of her. Praeses wore a beautiful palomino color. His blonde mane and tail were thick and full. Calypso was the perfect pinto, a mixture of three colors speckled onto a strong quarter horse frame.

Jed got to Praeses first. Abbey wasn’t far behind. The horses were ready to go with heavier blankets than usual and winter boots over their hooves. As Jed helped Abbey mount Calypso, Sarah told them, “It’s not that cold out but I wouldn’t ride longer than two, two and a half hours and watch the terrain.”

Jed nodded to Sarah and said to Abbey. “Let’s go into the forest. It should be beautiful today.”

Their horses walked off toward the edge of the farm that connected to the surrounding forest preserves. There was no need for conversation. It was pure nature and winter glory. In half an hour, they got to the top of a ridge and looked down at the small valley below them. It was one of his favorite places. It was the place the child Josiah hid when he expected something bad would happen when he got home.

He dismounted, helped Abbey down and tied the horses to a low branch. Taking her hand, they walked a little higher on the ridge. From there he could almost see their home, not quite but almost.

“Abbey, come look.” He pointed toward the south. “You can see the smoke from the chimney at the house.”

She strained but it was there. “I don’t think I’ve been up here before.”

“Probably not. We’re off our property. This is the state forest preserve. The Secret Service is out of their minds right now.”

“Maybe we should get back.”

He grinned, “You know they have tracking devices on the saddles. Trust me, someone knows where we are.”

Hands wrapped around his waist. “Too bad.”

A lot of heat transferred back and forth. In this winter Narnian environment, they fixated on each other’s eyes knowing that seeing into a soul was the ultimate intimacy. Jed parted slightly from her. “If I did one thing right in my life it was the decision to trust you, then love you.”

She detected his drifting in bad memory territory. “Let’s get back, Jed. I have to start our special dinner soon.”

“Not yet. I want to tell you about this place.” Looking around, he admitted, “Too cold to sit on the ground but I want to be near you.”

Something was wrong. She could read him and knew it was confession time. “What’s wrong, Baby? You okay?”

He didn’t answer, “I know this place really well. Can’t tell you how many hours I spent here.”

“This has to do with your father.”

Not negating her words confirmed them. “This is where I’d come to hide out before he hit me.” He walked over to an old pine tree.” I think this is the one.” The snow was brushed off the bark of the tree trunk. It took a few minutes to find it but there it was, carved into the trunk, still there. Without looking at Abbey, he told her, “I knew it was going to be bad that aftrnoon, maybe the worst yet. I got an award for my writing. The teacher sent it into a competition without telling me. I won. She told him and I knew he would find some reason to hit me. I didn’t want to go home. So I stayed up here and carved this into the tree.”

Abbey moved close to the words and saw his initials followed by “1946 - 1955”. She traced the letters and numbers with delicacy and a powerful pain in her heart. “You thought you were going to die just because you won an award. You were only nine.”

“My age never mattered.” Trying not to fall apart he attempted to joke a little. “Obviously, he didn’t succeed,” the humor was gone, “but I got home way too late. He was waiting for me. That was the first time he used a real whip on me, a buggy whip but it was a whip.” Growing apprehension sounded in his voice.  “When I passed out, I thought I wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t understand what death actually meant.”

Abbey watched as he started to crawl back to his childhood demeanor. Past fears took over his posture and plastered themselves on his face. “Get mad about it, Jed. You have a right to. Nine years old and you think it’s your last day on earth. Get mad at him. Blame him. It wasn’t your fault.”

Her own anger flew into high gear. “Blame him, Jed!  And God damn him! I want him burning forever in hell and having to live through the agony! I want him to know the pain he gave you at a million times worse and never, never, never be allowed any mercy!” Her wrath evolved into huge sobs, a grief she hadn’t allowed herself. “You were only nine.”

He didn’t have the emotional strength to comfort her. He was fighting his own meltdown. “Why did I bring you here? You didn’t need to know. I’m sorry, Abbey. Forgive me, please.”

She took it on herself to hold him close. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“This is what I feared, that telling would make you hurt. I don’t want that for you. Please, Abbey, it’s all over.”

Her tears wouldn’t end. “You were nine.”

He tried to wipe her tears with his thickly gloved hand. Trying to lighten the mood, he smiled a little, “I know. I was there.”

“Don’t joke with me now.” A big sniff sucked back some of the falling tears. “Don’t make light of what he did.” She kissed him hard and with more intensity than she remembered having. “Thank you for telling me, for showing me.”

Even in the cold, Abbey could see Jed’s face draining of color. He explained it to her quickly. “Abbey, I hate to do this but I’m going to lose breakfast in half a minute. Let go.”

She pulled him to the side. His hands landed down on his knees and breakfast came up. He vomited for far more time than needed to empty his stomach.

When he could speak, he confessed, “We got to go now.”

“Let’s get you back on Praeses.” It was her turn to help him. He held onto the saddle’s pommel like a rookie but it was better than falling off. She took his reins in her hand. “You got to tell me if you need to throw up again.”

Taking back the reins, he wanted to get home. “Just get going but not too fast.”

They took about 45 minutes to get back to the farm. They stopped once for Jed to vomit again. Getting back on Praeses was more difficult but Jed started regaining equilibrium and felt better when in the distance they spotted the barn. Abbey saw Ron Butterfield and remembered her panic button. “Why the hell didn’t I use this up there!” She pushed the button and yelled out, “Ron, he’s sick!”

Jed raised his tired eyes. “No, I’m not. I threw up. What’s new?”

Seconds later, three snowmobiles were at their side. A few seconds after that, a snowmobile with a stretcher behind it appeared. Jed was taken down from his horse, protesting being placed onto the stretcher. “I’m okay. Leave me alone.”

Ron checked with Abbey and she was shaking her head no. “Sir, we’ll get you to the house. Medical will meet us there.”

“I don’t need medical.”

Abbey was in doctor mode. “Yes, you do. So, shut up and be a patient.”

She climbed on the snowmobile behind Ron.

It didn’t take long for Jed to be in his boxers, an IV set up and three medications hung to help him feel better. He was used to the saline, Compazine and Betaseron cocktail dripping into the back of his left hand. “I don’t need Betaseron. All I need is the Compazine.”

Abbey stood her ground and the trio of meds was set up. With his odd reactions to medication, this combination always made him sleepy and within half an hour, he was out completely. It was only 11 AM and his day was over. He’d wake for dinner and hopefully feel strong and invigorated by the sleep.

Abbey spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon preparing the special dinner she’d promised. She did all she could before the cooking. After a shower, she found she couldn’t stay away from his side any longer. She lay next to him in the big bed they shared, her arm draping over his bare chest. Feeling his heart beat strong and his lungs breath deep was like listening to John Williams play Manuel de Falla. The classic guitarist was a favorite of theirs and de Falla wrote awe-inspiring music. That was her Jed, awe-inspiring; not that he would ever see that in himself. Pretty soon, she was sleeping, too. 

Not more than an hour later, Jed awoke and found his beautiful wife holding him. While it felt really good, he wanted to get up and get the IVs out of his hand. He found the call button and pushed it. Ron knocked softly and entered. “Good afternoon, Mr. President. How are you feeling?”

Very quietly, he said, “I’m fine. What time is it?”

“Just after four, sir.”

Abbey began to wiggle. Jed smiled. “Maybe you should leave us alone for an hour or so.”

Ron smiled, “You’re optimistic, sir.”

Jed didn’t believe what he heard. With more slyness than usual for his detail leader, he raised his brows. “Mr. Butterfield, do you doubt your President?”

Ron hid his smile and added, “I doubt most men on earth need an hour.”

“Okay, you win. Still, give us an hour.”

“Yes, sir.” Then he left.

Jed looked at Abbey. She was so beautiful. Leaning down, he planted a deep kiss on her mouth. She wiggled a little more and cuddled into his body.  She whispered, “Keep going,” so he did. The heat between them grew and both wanted more until Jed’s IVs tangled up in their hands. They sat up and Abbey untangled herself first. “Let me get rid of these.”

She started to fuss with the IVs and asked him, “You feeling better?”

“I’m fine.” He watched her carefully pull the primary needle from his hand. “Sorry about this morning. I didn’t know where we were going until I got there. I haven’t thought about that place for I don’t know how long.”

She wiped Betadyne over the entry spot and a small bandage covered that. “You may not have thought about it, Jed, but you never forgot it.” Crawling onto the bed, she straddled her husband and rubbed his bare chest. “I love your body, Jethro. It’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?’ He patted his belly. “I guess you want me to get rid of this.”

She patted her tummy. “I could lose a few pounds, too.”

“You are perfect.” He lowered his head onto her breasts. “Get rid of the tee shirt, Babe. I want you, not 100% cotton.”

She shed her shirt and her red pajama bottom. “That better?”

He turned over on top of her taking a nipple. Tasting her breast was a favorite pastime but he had another goal in mind. Slipping her hands into his waistband, she helped him shed the boxers.

As much as he loved playing with her breasts, she liked when his hands drifted down and fingered her mound. Her clit was tender and wanted his hand to massage her increasing dampness. It put a huge smile on her face and sent shivers through her body. He moved again and his head was between her legs exploring her warmth with his lips and tongue. Pleasure grew for both of them and he started to swell. Her hand caressed him. They gave themselves to each other in a dance so choreographed that innovation was always part of their experience. He arched. Time was getting close and she turned him onto his back. Her position made it easy for him to slide inside her waiting body. He held her breast and felt his breathing increase in expectation. Her hands disappeared behind his back as he thrust into her. The sublimity had her body responding in so many ways. It was a perfection that confirmed their dedication to each other.

Abbey’s ecstasy unexpectedly vanished. Whip marks. She felt them for the first time in decades. The whip scars still remained, raised ridges of tissue marking his body forever and touching them was an invasion of his privacy the likes of which she never felt before. She wondered if these were the scars he was given at age nine. Without wanting to, she pulled back a little and her face reflected the disgust she felt for her father-in-law. A sympathetic moaning cry followed and he disengaged from her body.

He knew what happened. Pulling out from under her, he sat at the edge of the bed facing the wall. “You never did that before.”

She crawled over to him and immediately put her arms around him. “I’m sorry, Jed. I just saw him hitting you. From out of nowhere I saw him hit you. I felt the scar.” She kissed him with such hunger. “I love you so much.”

“But the scars bother you.” He held her head tenderly. “It’s okay. We can keep lights off or find other ways to make love.” Shame tinged his cheeks. “I understand. They’re ugly.”

Abbey ran her hands over the scars and began to kiss each one down its length. “You’re not ugly.”

He pulled his boxers back on. “You don’t have to placate me. I know what I am.”

She knelt on the bed staring at him. “You have no clue _who_ you are.”

“What’s for dinner?”

She got up and walked to her dresser. “I guess it’s time to dress. I took out **Mr. Smith Goes to Washington**. You still want to make out in the balcony?”

His dresser was on the other side of the room. He pulled out clean clothes, “Hell, yeah. We either make out or I recite the dialogue.”

“Make out, it is.”

They dressed and the incident during sex was not mentioned again


	12. While the Cat's Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo talks to the press about his time at prep school.

CHAPTER TWELVE - While the Cat’s Away

For a tight group, they became tighter. Everyone checked in with Leo each day. Especially today, they all wanted to spend time with him. His press conference was scheduled for two o’clock.

The Roosevelt Room turned into a gathering place. Food, cold drinks, hot coffee always available and fresh fruit even though no one really knew who was taking care of that. When Donna had to reach out, there was Will pouring coffee. Josh developed a new relationship with Debbie. Turns out they were a lot alike, smart alecks who knew their President was worth every second of fight.

Deep in his office Leo and CJ were in prep mode. CJ tried to get him ready for the onslaught of she didn’t know what. “You saw what they did to the President, “They’re going to ask all sorts of questions about your time at the school. They also found out about your father's suicide.”

“I never hid that.”

“Doesn’t matter. It will be spun as a reason why you never admitted to witnessing the President’s assault.”

“CJ, I keep telling you, I never saw the assault. I got there hours after he was beaten. I am a firsthand witness to the _aftermath_ of his father’s attempt to kill him.”

“Did the President ever say his father hurt him?”

“In vague ways.” Leo hated Jed’s covering for his father. “He had his cover story fleshed out really well by the time. I think even he began to believe it.”

Pretending to be a reporter, CJ shouted out, “Leo! Hey Leo! Did he sodomize the President? Did he sodomize you?”

“I will not answer questions regarding any injury the President sustained. I am here to tell you that I never was hit or sexually abused by the President’s father. Nor did any other boy during my stay at the school ever admit to me he was physically hurt by the Headmaster. The man was unkind to all the boys but it was, to my knowledge, always verbal assaults.”

CJ sighed a little. “You should have stopped after your first sentence. If they don’t ask it, don’t answer it.”

Leo knew better. “Yeah, I just want this to be over for him.” Under his breath, he grumbled, “For me, too.”

CJ kept prepping him. “Answer only what they ask. If you need extra time to form your answer, tell him, her, it that you didn’t hear the question. They’ll have to repeat it and you get another few seconds.”

Heavily, Leo sighed, “I don’t want to do this. They’ll be working me to make me say something I don’t want to say.”

She had to know, “Like what?” waiting didn’t get her a response. “You got to tell me everything you can, Leo. I can’t help you if I have half the story.”

His head shook from side to side. “I don’t know more but that doesn’t mean there isn’t more. Even with all the information in the medical records, I’m thinking he’s still holding onto something.”

“Stop thinking that right now. Work with the information you have. Don’t invent more.” CJ took a long sip from her coffee. “I don’t even want to think there could be worse things out there. He had enough.”

“Yeah.” Seeing CJ down her coffee had him reaching for his. “During the campaign Josh said something sarcastic about being bathed in the warmth of the candidate.”

Josh was walking in. “Yeah, he was a son of a bitch at first. No one could get close. I mean, we liked him, sort of, but closed off. It was like two different people; the one in front of voters and the one in front of us.”

“I think I told you that he was easy to like once you got to know him.”

Josh sat down. “I got to tell you, Leo. If I didn’t trust you, I would have walked out a bunch of times.”

Leo’s heart had been continually breaking since that Friday night television confession so many eons ago, or was it only three days? The silence in the room had become the norm. No one spoke until Josh and CJ heard Leo once again say, “He was only 13.”

Josh raised his eyebrows and put it out there. “You got to stop that. You were only 18. For God’s sake. Give it up. You couldn’t have saved him. By that time, he had been damaged enough to make your intervention worthless.”

Leo was pissed. “Thank you, Josh. Nice to know that my helping him would have been worthless.”

“You know what I meant.”

The quiet descended again. Leo broke the silence again. “Is anyone working on the Global Warming Consortium? We do have to think about governing again.”

CJ didn’t look up. “Toby is determined to make that meeting a highpoint in the President’s career. We’re going to be so prepared.”

“All we need now is a President.” Leo looked around. “All of you get out. I want some time alone before the press attacks me.”

Josh stood with CJ but said, “I actually came in to tell you something. You may as well hear it, too. It’s not that important but it does explain something I always wondered about.”

CJ wondered, “Another mode of torture we didn’t know about?”

“Nah, but maybe, in a weird way. I read that children who go through severe abuse can end up with a lot of personality traits they ordinarily wouldn’t have. For example, some want to forget everything and in trying to do that, they might develop an inability to remember people’s names.” The recognition was immediate but being Josh he added, “Sound like anyone we know?”

CJ felt more weight being added to the damage her President was suffering through. “I’ll bet he doesn’t even realize that’s why.”

Leo started to shoo them out. “And I’m not going to tell him. It’s not important. There’s enough on the table already.”

Josh and CJ ambled out and Leo returned to his desk. Instead of studying the papers in front of him, he turned his chair to the window and watched the snow. “I hope it’s snowing up there for you. You like this shit.”

******

Jed was walking around the grounds of the farm alone. His hands buried in his pockets and he wandered to a far corner that was rarely visited. Once in a great while, he’d seek out this little patch of privacy where a tall pine tree grew. In the winter, it was beautiful. In the summer, the surrounding oak trees covered it in shade. It was the place where, if he thought she could help, he might find his mother sitting against the largest oak reading a book or simply sitting there staring at the empty sky.

The mystery of his mother always bothered him. She was kind, he thought but she never tried to stop his father. Sometimes she cried for seemingly no reason. When that happened, he felt she was far away somewhere else, somewhere far from him. The child Jed felt protective toward her and recalled an incident when he stepped between his parents and ended up beaten. There was too much confusion. Childhood memories are not reliable and thoughts of his mother were negligible to begin with.

Young Jed didn’t remember seeing her getting hit but he did think she behaved oddly especially when Jonny turned three, turned three or four, somewhere in there. That was when his father had her admitted to the rest home and he never saw her again.

He made his way to the interior of a huge pine and smelled the scent of a New Hampshire winter. It was wonderful but he started getting a pain in his head. A few more deep breaths put him on the wrong side of woozy. Pulling himself out was hard. Recalled pain of the beatings crashed in on him. Dropping to his knees, he crawled out the rest of the way and found a small stone fence to sit on.

Jed’s back started aching as another onslaught started, another memory driven misery. Abbey told him to get angry at his father and he wanted that as well but he had trouble being angry since he still feared the man and fear wanted him to cower.

The only pain Jed could produce now was in his own mind. Still the agony beat him as authentically now as it did during the reality. His remarkable intelligence was contending with recognizable hurt from the past, his past. It had him desiring a brain that didn’t have the capacity to archive the burn of his father’s fist. It took time but Jed finally came back to the present, shedding the aching blows tormenting him.

He gazed around in a 360° circle. Here was the beginning of everything. Baby Josiah was birthed in that house there. In that barn, he got his first in a lifetime of beatings. He last saw his mother over there. Independence started for real when he was left at the farm and his father moved to the school. The huge empty house didn’t became a happy home until he moved in with Abbey. This was home except he was President and the White House was where that person lived. Getting back there was important and he decided.

They were scheduled to go home on Thursday, the day after tomorrow but he decided to go back early. Turned out Abbey was right. There was nowhere to run. It was all in his head. One last time, he walked to his mother’s oak tree, His hand touched the cold bark on the oak. A flash of light flew through his line of sight, a blinding flash inside his head. There was impact, a blow driving him to his knees, another axe-handle breaking another bone. A bellow of “No!” sounded through the copse. The light blinded him and while doing no good, his hands protected his eyes from the imagined attack.  

From around the presumed emptiness a complete Secret Service detail got to his side in seconds. No attack was there. The President’s aggressor was his own intellect. Ron was always there first. He shouted out instructions and it seemed instantaneous. The President was back in the house being placed carefully on the recliner in the living room.

Her own agent was explaining the situation as Abbey flew down from the bedrooms.  “Jed? Jed? What’s going on?”

She squatted down to look him in the eye. “I don’t know. More memories shit. God damn it.” He glared at his detail. “Get out. I’m fine. Just go.” They didn’t move. He stared at Ron, “Tell them to get out of here.” Ron waved them out and remained in the next room where he could be of immediate assistance if need be.

“Good Lord, Jed, they told me you were screaming in pain. You sure you’re okay?”

“All in my head, Abbey. I swear to God, all in my head and maybe for only two seconds. No more than that.”

His concerned wife stood up. “I’m going to get you some water. Relax a minute and we’ll figure this out.”

Jed felt fine now. The situation in the garden was just moments of disconnect, yet his heart was beating too fast. Abbey returned to him opening the bottle as she rushed in. “Here. Drink but not too fast. You don’t need to start the upchuck stuff.”

He took a long sip of water and told her, “Leo’s press conference is on soon.”

Ignoring him, Abbey began helping Jed take off his winter gear. “Lean forward so we can get this barn coat off. By the way, your barn cat is refusing to be put outside.”

The coat came off, swapped for a smile “Rufus is in here?”

“He won’t leave the house.” Her hand checked his forehead. “That’s good.” Abbey left the room and brought in some slippers. “Here. Get those wet shoes off.”

As he untied the snowy boots, he tried to explain. “It was like watching an old TV show. My head just popped into another dimension like a bad flashback.”

“Do you know why you screamed?”

Jed tried to remember what happened and couldn’t get it quite right. “I know he was there and he had that axe-handle.”

Abbey hugged him. “Oh, God Jed.”

“Not like that. He hit me with it. The whole thing lasted maybe two seconds, maybe not even that long.”

She handed him the water he’d put down. “Drink.”  

Reaching out, he grabbed the bottle and leaned back into the recliner. With feet up and head back he sipped water and looked perfectly content. “Abbey, it was strange.”

She took a more comfortable position on the couch. “I need more than that, Jed.” Trying for some kind of their normal banter she smiled when she said, “A lot of what goes on in your head is strange.”

A giant orange tabby leapt onto him and crawled onto his shoulder. The water nearly flew from his hand. “Rufus, what the hell are you doing?” The 14 pound animal meowed in his ear and he chuckled. The cat lay down in Jed’s lap. “We got to take him to Washington. He makes me laugh.”

“Rufus in the Oval. Now, there’s a picture.”

He petted the long cat, soothing the both of them. Abbey noted the immediate relaxation Jed had once Rufus made his appearance. Yeah, the cat would be coming back to Washington with them.

The incident in the garden preyed on his mind. “I’ve had memories kick me before but this was different. You’re about to ask me how and I’m not sure. This felt like I don’t know. Memories I can tell are recalled things and I’m in the here and now and just remembering stuff but this wasn’t like that. I was there and then back here.”

“You were there. Tell me what that means.”

“Like it was happening right then. Damn, I am going crazy.”

“So you’re a shrink now? Don’t give yourself more problems than you need.”

He pulled the cat into a more comfortable position and continued to pet the soft fur. “It wasn’t a flashback. I know when I’m doing that. Even if I’m feeling him hit me, I know it’s a recollection. This wasn’t like that.”

“Still sounds like a flashback to me. Maybe a different kind. We need Stanley right now. My specialty doesn’t work at all here. At least you have a healthy heart.”

A faraway gaze settled in. “So far the heart is fine. The rest of me is going to hell.”

Rufus cuddled in a bit closer and Abbey noticed how much the animal seemed to calm him. “I guess we’d better send someone out for cat essentials. Looks like the puma is coming with us.”

He smiled and with an almost child’s voice, he said, “Really?”

Like a mom finally giving in at the town mall, Abbey nodded. “Alright. Can’t wait to see him crawling in and out of the Oval interrupting Leo’s meetings.”

“Don’t torment him.”

“Leo can take it.”

“I was talking about Rufus.”

Jed pushed the cat off his lap. “Time for Leo’s press conference. Got any coffee?”

They both stood up. Abbey headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll meet you in the office.”

Jed had a big tabby walking through his feet. They went into the office where a bank of televisions was always on. His agent was with him. “Kevin, could you mute them all except the press room?”

The President of the United States sat down at his desk, checked over a file he’d left there and waited. Abbey carried in two cups, sat in the chair next to the desk and asked, “How do you think this is going to go?”

“Badly,” was the instantaneous remark. “None of this is going to go well.”

From the monitor, Leo’s voice sounded out.

******

“Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen. I’m Leo McGarry, Chief of Staff for President Josiah Bartlet.

From the back someone shouted, “Where is he?”

CJ stepped up. “We can call this off if you can’t remember what I said earlier. Do I need to remind you?”

Leo took over. “I have known Jed Bartlet since he and I were teenagers and both of us attended the prep school where his father, Dr. John Bartlet, was Headmaster. My attendance there was made possible through a scholarship that helped boys who might not be able to afford a prep school education. The President and I became friends. With our height advantage, we were both lousy basketball players and a lot better at chess.” There was a slight ripple of a laugh. Leo smiled.

“While at school, most of the boys knew that the President was hit by his father. None that I know of were aware of the extent of the abuse. In the dormitory, Jed Bartlet was a very rare subject of discussion. I never recall anything more than someone saying, ‘Jed missed school again,’ and we all figured he was nursing some bruise or other.

“I and the other boys need to take responsibility for not reporting what we knew to be true. However, in none of those discussions did anyone ever admit to being hit by the Headmaster. I personally was never physically or sexually abused by John Bartlet. Nor am I aware of any other boys being physically or sexually abused. The Headmaster belittled us. His actions, as far as I know, were within the parameters of tolerable standards of that time, parameters that no longer are permissible.

“Statements in print stating that Jed Bartlet knew his father abused other boys are not true. Those statements are not true. While the President tolerated abuse of himself by his father, he would never excuse the abuse of others.

“I will answer questions regarding my knowledge of the situation but I will not answer questions about the President.”

A journalist shot up, “It’s the President we need to talk to. All of our questions revolve around his allegations and the allegations of the man accusing him of a cover up.”

“I will not answer questions about the President.”

The other side of the room piped up. “Leo! Leo, did the President ever admit to you that he was being abused by his father?”

“Yes.”

The same person wanted follow-up. “Come on, Leo, when did you know he was a battered kid?”

Leo looked over to CJ who gave an almost unnoticeable nod to answer. “From the day I met him.”

“How did you know? What did he say?”

Leo got itchy uncomfortable. “He didn’t have to say a thing. I saw a bruise just above his wrist. I grew up in a tough part of Chicago. I recognized the bruise. It was what happens,” he grabbed CJ’s arm, “when someone squeezes too hard on an arm. From experience of seeing it before, I knew it was a big hand, not another boy. It’s not rocket science.”

Sandy, the NY Times reporter, asked, “When did you learn of the President being sodomized?”

“I won’t answer that.”

“Why not? It’s a question for you, not the President.”

The memory was vile and always made him rage-filled. “I accompanied him to the hospital after one of the beatings. I learned the extent of the abuse inflicted by his father at that time.” He anticipated Sandy wanting more. “That’s all I have to say about it.”

CJ pointed to Danny. “You have a question?”

Danny stood up. “Leo, the President has stated that he wanted to begin real conversations about child abuse. What steps is he taking to begin that?”

Leo put it in his head to remember to thank Danny. “We have started talking about the creation of a Commission to Study Childhood Physical, Sexual, Emotional and Intellectual Abuse and Neglect. The goal of this commission will determine the best ways the Federal Government can intervene on behalf of children involved in this horror.”

From beyond, “Leo, were you raped by Bartlet’s father?”

“First off, refer to the man as President Bartlet out of respect for the position and for him. Second, I already answered that. So, I guess you weren’t listening. You can get notes from someone who was paying attention.”

All sorts of hands shot up as the assembly began to turn into a civilized press conference. Leo acknowledged Paula Shuster. “Leo, first, thank you for being here. It can’t be easy.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t recognize her. “May I ask your affiliation?”

“I’m Paula Shuster with Parents Magazine. May I ask you about the President’s speech the other night?”

“I won’t answer questions for him.”

“I understand. It’s been said that his words were extemporaneous. Is that true?”

Sanity from Parents Magazine. “Yes, they were. That’s why they were powerful. He was telling children to talk about what happens to them and it was the first time he was doing exactly that. For all the years I have known Jed, he never spoke to anyone other than Abigail Bartlet, his wife, Dolores Landingham, his former secretary and me about what was done to him. Coming forth with those words was a huge step in his healing.”

Shuster smiled, “Yes, sir. We all know that and we commend him for it.”

Leo smiled back. “Thank you, Ms. Shuster.”

Danny raised his hand again. “Leo, I had a follow up to my question about the Commission the President wants to implement. What will be the focus of the Commission?”

“The President wants a central information source for data regarding what is happening in this country. He wants a single source that tracks all independent and governmental research. We will also be taking a close look at the current research, finding it’s strong points, finding out where we need to improve and doing that. Certainly, he wants to know the best way to get money into programs that help these kids. Too many children go unidentified, like he did. Who knows how many YoYo Mas are dead because of abuse. Did the woman who would find a cure for cancer get killed in a sex-trafficking ring when she was seven? What about the next President of the United States? We almost lost Josiah Bartlet when he was 13. We can’t have that happening. This President wants to start finding some answers and this Commission will begin to do that.”

An idiot from the back called out, “How can he do that if he has to defend his father from allegations of rape?”

CJ stepped up again. “We are here only to talk about Leo McGarry’s attendance at the prep school where Dr. John Bartlet was Headmaster.”

“You just want to avoid answering the question we all want the answer to. Was the President raped by his father as alleged by the Express Truth and did he participate in the rape of other boys with his father also as alleged?”

Leo found steaming anger immediately. “What I know is this - Jed was physically, sexually, emotionally and intellectually abused by a bastard of a father who didn’t like the fact that his kid was a smarter, better, more mature person than he was. What I know is this - Jed could never act out on another child. You got that? Never! Don’t turn him into his father. He’s the victim here. That guy from that rag newspaper, if he was raped by Jed’s father then that’s between that guy and Jed’s father. Leave Jed out of it!”

CJ put her hand on Leo’s arm and whispered in his ear. “You’re getting out of hand. You’re digging a hole and you are calling the President of the United States by his nickname. If you can’t bring it in, then say you’re done and let’s go.”

Leo was angry. “They want to talk about sodomy. Can’t they respect his privacy?”

“No, they can’t, so we’re ending this now.” She took over the microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen and I use the term quite loosely, you still have a lot to learn. This is not a subject for salacious journalism focusing on past violence inflicted on our President and other adults and children like him. We opened up this national wound to try and cut away at this national infection and begin to heal. We owe that to the millions and millions of Americans living with their abusive realities. It’s time to grow up. Time for you to grow up, too. Tomorrow, I will not be addressing this issue at the press conferences.”

A dissonance of objections roared. “You can’t do that!” “What are you hiding?” “Freedom of Speech!”

“You can all go home now.” CJ walked off with Leo right behind her.

They continued into Leo’s office. “So, how much did I screw that up?”

“Just about as much as I thought you would.”

He plunked down in his chair, put his hand to his chin and tried to control his rage. “I hate this, CJ. I really hate this.”

CJ sat across from him and hesitantly said, “Sir, I’m going to ask you a question and I want a truthful answer.”

“Now what?”

She was nervous. “I’m only asking you because we have to have complete truth here. It’s too important.”

He harrumphed and placed both elbows on his desk, hands flat down. “You’re going to ask me if I was raped by the President’s father. No, I was not. He never put a hand on me. Then you’re going to ask if it really is true that the President was sodomized by his father and I know that to be very true.” He looked into his palms. “That was the blood I had to wash off. I lifted him into the car and his blood was all over me. You want to know more?”

Rage, anger, fury, wrath all spun in a tornado circling his mind. “I scooped him up. My right arm was under his legs. From the waist down, he was essentially naked and his blood soaked through my shirt. Do the vultures need to know that, too?”

Sadly, she told him, “They might.”

“Do they need to know I still have the shirt?” The statement shocked CJ. She wasn’t prepared to him further saying, “I never washed it. His blood is still on it.”

He threw a small frame across the room. Then with more emotion than Leo ordinarily showed, he got up and picked the frame off the floor. “Why did I do that?” The frame held a napkin with his writing on it, **_Bartlet for America_**. “I’m sorry, Jed. I should have kept my mouth shut about getting you to be President. You’d be safe in New Hampshire teaching economics to Dartmouth students. You could have been happy.”

”And the country’s children would have been a lot less safe.”

“Nobody would have cared.” He hated that he said it. “It’s true, CJ. We’re not going to stop this shit because the President was a victim. Nobody really cares.”

CJ’s own anger showed. “I care, Leo. Lots of people do. We can’t stop caring. This is a situation where we might actually help make a profound difference.”

“While we ruin the life of the best President this country has seen since FDR.”

She shook her head. “We didn’t do anything. His father did.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Leo had his head bowed. "At least they left my father out of it." 

"We can be grateful for that."

Deep regret infiltrated his soul. He softly said, “You think he watched it?”

CJ smiled slightly. “What do you think?”

“I hope he was out milking cows or whatever he does to work that place.”

“Guess again.”

“Yeah.”


	13. New Definition for an Old Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jed admits to new definitions of himself, definitions his father created.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - New Definition for an Old Story

 

Jed had his head down trying to digest the catastrophe that was Leo’s press conference. Abbey was in a similar position knowing the disaster wasn’t over. She walked to the television and turned it off. “Well, that was charming. How are you feeling, Jed?”

He sat and his head slightly moved back and forth. “Why did I open up this can of worms?” Both feet planted themselves on the ground. His shoulder set strong in a posture exuding power and strength. “It’s Pandora’s Box. We have to get back. I have to be there and be the general. No more passing off my responsibilities.”

Abbey’s concern was Jed, not his staff. “You had a very weird flashback earlier today. I don’t know what that meant but we have to have Stanley in on all this.” She moved over and sat on the desk taking his hands in hers. “I’m worried, Jed. I’ll be honest with you. I’m really worried. Your MS episodes are coming almost daily. Your memories are beating you down. A flashback had you screaming.”

“I didn’t scream. Yell, maybe.”

“And now you want to be in charge again. Are you sure you can do it?”

He pulled her onto his lap and held her tight. “I was never really sure I was Presidential material but I had you by my side. You still going to be there?”

The question reminded her of the holiday dinner where he asked if she would be with him as he died. She gave the same answer, “Yeah.”

“I love you, Abigail.”

She smiled in his embrace. “I know.” She kissed him hot and heavy. Pulling back from him, she wiped his lips with her index finger and stuck it in her mouth. “You taste good, Josiah.”

“Spicy, savory or sweet?”

“Like Orange Chicken from that little Chinese place on the west side of London, a bit of all three.”

They needed no more kisses, no more words or pleasant teasing. They were two people whose love was deep and nothing, no one, no issue from the outside would ever change that. They became one body, each in support of the other. They fit together. It became their unwritten contract. In order to face the immediate future, they had to know they were facing life together forever. Each signed that contract without any doubts at all.

Dinner time was getting nearer. She wanted food. “We got to get out of here. I want to go to Ling’s. I suddenly have a taste for orange chicken.” She licked the tip of his nose. “How about you?”

“Hot and sour soup.”

She made a yucky face. “How do you eat that stuff?”

“It’s hot and sour. Can you imagine that?”

“No which is why its sizzling rice soup for me.”

Jed gently pushed Abbey off his lap. “I’d better let Ron know we want out. The boys have to clear the place.”

“Ling’s has a private dining room. Can’t we go in there? I want to see real people, people not wearing badges.”

He stood up. “I don’t know. From what Ron told me earlier, the threats have increased by nearly 30%. Even at Ling’s they’ll want the place empty.”

Threats, their lives revolved around threats. How would they enter a building? How would they exit? All the wait staff needed to be vetted. It was a pain in the neck to be Mr. and Mrs. President of the United States.

Resigned to incarceration at their lovely home, Abbey let out a big breath. “Okay, take out from Ling’s and we can watch The Last Emperor.”

It was a compromise even he didn’t like. “I’m sorry.”

With a smile, she left the office telling him, “I’ll hang a paper lantern. Why don’t you get out of the office? Go play with that big old cat.”

“Ah, the latest tenant in the White House Residence.”

As she exited, she called back, “If you’re serious, we really do have to stop at a pet store on the way back to Washington.”

Rufus wandered into Jed’s office and jumped onto a printer table. Two reams of paper flew off and the cat curled up on top of the printer itself. Jed laughed. “Yeah, Rufus, I need you in the Oval. Debbie’s going to love you.”

*****

Jed and Abbey sat at the kitchen table with boxes of Chinese take-out in front of them. No fancy dishes, old cotton napkins, no serving pieces. They ate out of the boxes talking about inconsequential things like the new saddle Jed saw the day before. They edged into consequential then they started dissecting the relationship Zoey was developing again with Charlie. Jed really wanted them to get married. He’d have no trouble accepting that young man into the family. Hell, he already gave the kid the Paul Revere carving set.

Jed was finishing up the last of the sweet and sour shrimp. Abbey munched on a lettuce leaf filled with pork and vegetables. She took the moment to bring up the dreaded subject. “Leo really exploded on the sodomy question.”

“Can’t blame him.” Jed wiped his mouth. “He’s feeling a lot of responsibility for what happened.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“We know that. Leo likes to think he’s been designated my protector. I can’t get him out of that mode. My father beat me long before he was on the scene and it didn’t stop. You know that for a fact.”

Playing with her food on the plate, she mentioned lightly, “I don’t think you’ve used the word yet. You haven’t said it aloud.”

“It?”

She pushed on. “Sodomy is more than just an act. It’s a betrayal. It defines your worth to him. You have to use the word, Jed.”

He started pushing food away from him. Anxiety was starting and it was easy to see. “Words, Abbey. Words are important.”

“So is confronting them.” She started closing up the boxes of take-out. “Sodomy, Jed. It turns my stomach that he attacked you like that. Sodomy is one thing in a consensual relationship but another when it’s violently forced on you. You bear scars from the beatings. The scars of sodomy are just as deep.”

The pall penetrating his complexion told Abbey she was hitting a chord. “I want you to know that you are loved regardless of your father’s intentions. I love you and what he did only matters to me because he hurt you. Sodomy was an act of violence. Don’t give it more power than it already is stealing from you.”

He started breathing heavy. “Stop, Abbey, or this night will not end well.”

“Is that a threat?” She moved her chair next to him. “Just kidding. Sorry.” She hugged him and asked, “Why can’t you say that word? It’s only a word.”

“The Gettysburg Address was only about 250 words.”

Ticked at his attempt to change the topic, she cracked, “Thank you for the geek trivia.” She wanted him to move ahead and somehow thought this was a way to get him to diminish the power of the act. “Your father raped you with an axe handle. Mrs. Landingham knew it. Leo still knows it and you will know it until you die.”

He didn’t move but she could see the act on display in his mind. He was reliving it again and she was sure that’s exactly what he needed. “I’m here and I don’t love you any less because of it.”

“You don’t understand.”

She held his gaze. “I know what sodomy is. I do understand.”

Jed panted but Abbey didn’t know if it was in anger, fear or disgust. “He . . .”

His words stopped cold but she saw the act playing in his head.  She thought he needed reassurance. “Honey, I love you.”

With a shake of his head, he mumbled with more than a touch of anger, “Stop. I know. I know but that has nothing to do with this!”

“Tell me. He took a whip to you. How is this violence any different?”

Leo had his explosion and now it was his turn. “Because the bastard sold me. He got money from men who raped me with penises, not axe handles. Don’t you understand? He was my pimp and I was his whore!" Tears would not fall but they were there shading the intense anger fuming in his soul. “And now, I’m supposed to go tell the press all about that?”

It was the act seen in a new light. The rape was one thing and a grossly dehumanizing act but for Jed, it was the act of being sold as a commodity that horrified him beyond any understanding.

With the dam starting to crack a little, Jed put hell into words Abbey might understand. “I don’t know how much he got for me, what I was worth to him but he sold me, Abbey. Can you imagine what that feels like? Your father sells you, pimps you out to strangers so they can rape you." Jed's blue eyes turned ice cold. They penetrated her soul. "And it was more often than the two times you know. I was just another product of the Bartlet Farm. Fresh eggs, fresh milk and Josiah's ass.”

She tried and became ashamed of her insistence on his talking. “Oh God, Jed, this all just gets worse and worse for you.”

Predators abused his spirit even more than his young body. “That’s the problem, Abbey. The actual acts that are just a part of it. Everything has ramifications beyond . . . whatever.”

Abbey began to talk but he stopped her. It was over. The subject closed like a bank vault door.

*****

They’d been at the farm for two days. It didn’t seem to help all that much. His memories were too strong and the farm seemed to bring them more into focus. This was where most of it took place and the peace he sought wasn’t coming as quickly as he wanted. Actually, little things reminded him of when he was hit because he got straight “A”s in school. Over there on the front porch he was smacked because he wasn’t good at sports and didn’t make the baseball team. The fact that he was too small didn’t matter. Even when he was working the farm, taking care of the animals, cutting the wheat, baling it by hand, his father found errors that truly didn’t exist. His back began to ache and it was old memories, not current fact.

He looked at his hands and saw the palms of a desk jockey. They used to be calloused by hard work. Now, they were too gentle. The strength was still in the muscles but he didn’t have those hands he used to have pride in, hands that worked hard. His hardest physical ordeal now as signing his name one letter at a time with 15 different pens.

The identification with farmers was inbred through generations. Bartlets were farmers as well as an 18th century signer of the Declaration of Independence and a 20/21st centuries liberal President. Legacy was a word used frequently in their generations and it was one this latest Bartlet wanted to add to positively. Being a beaten little boy whose daddy didn’t love him wasn’t the legacy he wanted at all.

Bartlet was the name he had to live up to. It was an impossibility when growing up. Then a nation overwhelmingly elected him their leader, made him the world’s most powerful human being. He wasn’t sure how to connect the two worlds of Jed. Then maybe connecting them wasn’t necessary. Maybe keeping them separate, like he’d been doing, was the route to travel.

Then he took that damned detour and nothing would be right again. He was now the poster child for how beating a child doesn’t define that child. Seeking out that distinction wasn’t planned or wanted. Too much of his father’s hatred colored his world and he let it. It was his own fault. He knew that. Being his father’s son would be the definition of his Presidency. The bastard found his way into everything.

At a very young age he knew that all was his fault. Made sense especially now. He was the one who decided to tell the universe he was a battered child. If that was his legacy he had himself to blame.

The trip back to Washington was happening late that afternoon. He wanted one more look around before leaving the site of his childhood torture. It was puzzling that he loved the place so much. Maybe he had two different personalities. He wasn’t sure about Dissociative Identity Disorder and the more he thought about it, the less he thought there were two Jed Bartlets out there. One was enough.

He made his way downstairs and found Abbey packing for the trip home. Most of it was cat stuff since Rufus was going to his new home in Washington.

Abbey watched Jed put on his jacket. She asked, “Going to the stables?”

“I just want to go to the trees out back. My mother used to spend time there.”

Abbey folded up a blanket that Rufus like to sleep on. “You don’t talk about her often. How old were you when she left?”

“She didn’t leave. My father had her committed to a rest home. Jon was a toddler.”

Not sure it was a good idea, Abbey suggested, “Let it go, Jed. You have enough to think about now.” A small kiss of sweet affection touched her cheek and he went out the back door.

The trees were nearly 200 feet from the house, far enough away to be secluded but still a part of the home. It was a bit overgrown but still cared for by staff. Snow made the setting idyllic for something; exactly what he didn’t know. He walked along the edges and tried to see his past.

His mother would sit under the oak and he had no recollection of interactions with her. She was just there. The picture in his head was simply an odd photograph that almost looked like a Victorian painting. She was pretty in a cold austere way. That made no sense.

Jed walked to the tree and touched it. The reality of the coarse bark started him wheezing. His mother was at this place. He saw her there. Reaching out to touch her seemed possible but his hand touched only air. When his fingers reached her imagined shoulder, the apparition looked up and reached for his hand. When her ghost fingers met his flesh, blood instantly covered his hand. None was there.

He spun around. The move was too fast and he fell across a small mound of dead vegetation. His hand bled even more and he yelled out with the pain of terrible gashes spurting too much blood - all in his head. His mother was gone.

From his first cries of pain, Secret Service descended on him. His personal agent got there first. Ron knelt down and immediately did a cursory exam. Finding nothing, he spoke. “Mr. President, tell me what’s wrong?”

Jed didn’t know how to tell Ron his imagination was in overdrive. “Just . . .” No excuses came to mind. “I’m not feeling well.” He made up an MS excuse. “My leg buckled. I twisted it.”

The excuse Ron heard denied that theory but he went along with it since he had no other information. He spoke into a communication device on his wrist. “Bring me a wheelchair.”

Jed started standing up. “I don’t need a damn chair. I’m fine.”

Ron helped him up and returned to his wrist. “Cancel the chair. Eagle is ambulatory. We’re going back to the house.”

Dusting off his slacks, Jed grumbled something indistinguishable. Then, staring up at the tall agent, he commanded, “I don’t need your help. Go hide back in the trees or whatever you do.”

“I can go back to the house with you, sir.”

The agent wasn’t going to leave his charge alone and Jed knew it. “Okay, let’s go so I can get rid of you. Don’t take it personally but I really don’t want agents hanging over me. It’s disturbing.”

“Yes, sir.”

They walked back to the house and Ron did not leave the President until they were back inside. Abbey saw them coming back together and waited to go to Jed. She was concerned but didn’t want to make a big deal of nothing much and it looked like nothing much.

She walked into the kitchen and found the men parting company. She walked up to Jed. “You and Ron go for a stroll?”

“Yeah,” he spit out. “I tripped and banged my knee. You would have thought I . . .”

When he stopped talking, Abbey knew he was trying to cover up something. She wanted to know, “What happened?” Ron backed out of the room.

Jed’s jacket got hung up and he put the teakettle on the stove. “I had some kind of flashback but it wasn’t a flashback. I don’t know what it was but I saw my mother sitting under the tree.”

She put her arms around him. “I’m sorry. That must have been painful.”

“In more ways than you know.” He stared at his hands, clean, undamaged and in no pain whatsoever. “She was sitting under the tree like I remember.” He put out his hand recalling the gesture he made. “I tried to touch her shoulder. I know she wasn’t there but I could see her. She reached out to take my hand and then my hand turned all bloody like I’d cut myself badly. Then both hands and it hurt like hell. That’s what brought Ron scrambling out from the bushes.”

Abbey guided him to a chair. “We got to get you out of here. Right now, this farm is toxic. It’s not calming you. You’re getting more and more memories and they’re making you miserable.”

He curled his lip and looked at her. “Why my mother? Why now? She didn’t participate in his little games and she was gone when I was eight or nine. He got worse after she was gone.”

“Maybe that’s why. She didn’t provide much protection if any but she was the wall that kept the really severe beatings from happening.”

Jed stared into his palms again. “I felt knives cutting across my hands and they were covered in blood.”

There was nothing to see but Abbey took his hands and examined them. He didn’t flinch, so whatever pain had been there was gone. She checked to make sure it wasn’t an MS attack of dysesthesia. No signs of that painful affliction.

“Honey, it was your imagination. You have a pair of big issues now. One is taking care of the press and their interest in all this. Second, and actually first, is you getting help in dealing with the abuse you survived. You’ve kept all this under wraps for too long. It’s about to burst and we have to get you through it safely.”

He kissed her hard and in great thanks. “You said, ‘we have to get through it.’ Thanks for that. I can’t do this alone.” His mind changed directions. “I saw her and I felt my hands bleed. God, it hurt.” Staring into his hands he saw no scars. “He never cut my hands. Never.” and he stopped talking. “Honestly, Abbey. I could feel it like knives cutting through my skin.”

“In your imagination, was your father there?”

“I didn’t see him like I saw my mother but he’s always with me here. This time around I’m recalling things I hadn’t thought of in years. I used to call my relationship with him complicated. It wasn’t. All it was was hate. He hated me.”

“Well, I think it was more complicated than that but the fault is all his. There is no reason for a child to be scarred by his father. You were innocent.”

“Not of everything.” His head twitched a bit when he said that. “Not everything?”

“I don’t care if you set the barn on fire, you were an innocent child.”

“And now I’m an adult who should have all this under control and I don’t.”

She led him toward the TV room. “Go find some bizarre sports to watch on ESPN. I’d like nothing better than to listen to you explain cricket to me.”

“I’m not that bright.”

He plopped down in his big overstuffed chair, closed his eyes and took in some deep breaths. “I’m glad we’re going back to Washington later.” Looking up at Abbey he confessed, “I can’t believe I just said that. I love this farm. It can’t be taken from me.”

She ran her fingers through his hair more to comfort herself than him. “I’ll bring you a Bloody Mary.”

His eyes widened. “Really? That sounds good especially if cricket is the only thing I can find.”

“One Bloody Mary light on the tabasco and extra celery.” He cringed. She smiled. “Hey, it’s the only way I get you to eat your vegetables.”

“Mix them with alcohol and I’ll eat more.” He started flipping through the channels. “Come back and sit with me.”

She nodded and was grateful he wanted company. Sometimes, when deeply disturbed, he closed off from people including her. Now he wanted her there. She saw it as a good sign and stopped at the freezer to pick up the Stoli. A frozen carton of chicken broth met her eyes. With a smile she said, “I’ll make matzo ball soup.” Abbey, the Stoli and the broth walked into the kitchen ready to make a cold Bloody Mary and a hot bowl of soup.

The Mary was a little light on the vodka but it was still early in the day. However the matzo balls were great and despite complaints about there being too much soup, it was all devoured. Abbey was happy to see Jed eating. His grazing habits had been lousy lately.

Their conversation centered on the inconsequential and whether it really was a good idea to bring a 14 pound orange tabby to the White House. Rufus had the ability to calm Jed down. Other Presidents had pets. So what if his was a little different. Rather than cute and cuddly, this pet looked like a puma. Look were deceiving though. Rufus, a proven mouser, had a personality with humans that was docile and sweet. He was attached to Jed and when at the farm, the cat could nearly always be found by the President’s side. He made Jed laugh, slept on his feet and was quite vocal. Just the conversation about bringing him to the White House put a smile on Jed’s face. Abbey couldn’t resist.

Jed started dressing to go outside. Abbey again asked, “Going to the stables?”

“I thought I’d go back to the oaks out back. You know my mother’s place.”

The strength of his previous terror scared her. “I’m not sure that you should. You were pretty spooked earlier.”

He took her waist in his hands. “Come with me.”

Sharing his memories was a new phenomenon. He’d showed her the tree where he carved his death date and now wanted to share this. She wouldn’t, couldn’t refuse.

Two minutes later they were outside trudging through the snow toward the oaks far back behind the house. When they got close, Jed pointed to the largest oak. “She’d sit under that tree and read. That’s the strongest memory I have of her outside the house.”

Abbey tried to picture Jed’s mother sitting alone. “Did you spend time with her here? Did she read to you?”

He thought hard to find a memory he knew was real. “I didn’t come here too much. It always seemed to be her place. After Jon was born, she spent most of her time with him.”

“Did you help with the baby?”

Help with him? “They didn’t let me. I could barely see him. Pretty much, I was kept from Jon’s room. From the second he was born, he was the golden child. Things for me went from worse to really worse. Father threw all the affection he had onto Jon and I started to get hit more.”

Jed and Jon got along but brotherly banter and affection always seemed feigned. After all these years Abbey was still learning about her complicated husband. Biting her lip she asked, “Did you love your mother?”

Without a thought he answered, “I did. I hated when she was gone.” He wanted to be honest. “She never really protected me but I know she didn’t like how he treated me.”

“And your father sent her to a rest home when Jon was three?”

“Three or four. She was sick. I remember about a week before she was taken away. I remember screaming and crying. I thought maybe Father was beating her but I can’t be sure. It sounded like so much pain. He sent me and Jon to the barn.”

Pointing to the large tree where he had his odd flashback, he walked toward it, feeling a tightening in his chest. “I’m not sure why this place makes me nervous. It never used to.”

She took his hand. “Maybe you’re missing your mother.”

His immediate response surprised her. “I miss having a mother at all.” He walked further toward the tall pine. “Father got a lot meaner after she left.” Jed’s breathing staggered in his lungs. “You know, it’s not bad for kids to work, to do chores but my chores were too much. It was hard. I was his farm hand and it bugged the hell out of him that I liked farm work. I just couldn’t do the branding of the cows. I couldn’t do that to the calves.”

Abbey, ever the realist told him, “Chores kept you from your books, from school. You should have been in college by 12. He wanted you undereducated.”

Shrugging, Jed admitted, “I was educated - out here. I love this land, Abbey. It kept me alive.”

Smiling at that fact got her saying, “Then I have a lot of reasons to love the farm. To be honest, I’m looking forward to coming home to stay.”

“Me, too.” A few more steps in and he sense trouble coming. “Oh God, something is happening.”

“Let’s go.” Grabbing his arm, she tried to pull him away but he wasn’t moving. “Come on, Jed.”

His arm pulled off her hand. “Something happened right here.”

“Let’s go.”

His memory was fuzzy but something important was there. “I feel it.” His breathing got heavier. He wanted to remember but he didn’t and he decided, “I’m done.”

Even though he said he was done, Abbey had to pull him from the copse of trees and back into the house. Sitting in the kitchen they were quiet. With an attitude some might consider meek, especially from Jed Bartlet, he asked, “Do you think I’m okay? Can I still function my job?”

She wanted him to fully understand. “It goes from you to Bingo Bob. What do you think?” He needed more. “Out here, you’re Jed. In the Oval, you’re Mr. President. You can do it. Remember your oath.”

“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of the President of the United States and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

“You’re stronger now than you were before. You don’t think so but you are.”

He wasn’t buying it. Abbey loved him and fought for him like a wild mama bear protecting her young. For the most time, she was a realist but there were times like this when blinders kept her from seeing things the way he saw them. “You’re crazy. You know that?”

“I married you and there’s the proof.” Standing up she asked him, “You want some tea or cocoa? Anything?”

“Not really.” There was a tug on his soul. Something wanted him back outside. A small sense of fear hit him. “I’m going to the barn.”

She saw the distress in his eyes. “They’re cows. They get milked. What’s to see?”

“I don’t know. I like the cows.” Explaining it was impossible. It had been too long since he was at the farm trying to confront his father and other demons. The demons made no sense and he wanted sense.


	14. Back to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jed returns to the White House as the Express Truth works on more lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I was back in the hospital. I also apologize for the shortness of this chapter but I wanted to get more posted before people forgot they were reading it. Thank you all for being so kind in your reception of this story.

 

**Back to Business**

He showed up the next morning dressed in his favorite three button suit and vest, looking strong, healthy and determined. The President was back and no one was going to question his authority or capacity to govern the most ambitious country in the world. His pace was quick and he commanded his staff. Milquetoast was gone and Josiah was back. The difference in his demeanor was startling.

Leo, CJ, Toby, Charlie and Debbie followed him into the Oval. He gestured to them, “Sit down. We have a lot to talk about and most of it has nothing to do with my personal history.”

CJ didn’t sit down. “Sir, we have to. The press conference has to happen and we have to prepare for it.”

“I have India and Pakistan pointing nuclear weapons at each other. What’s more important? Then there’s China and Tibet. We also have Haffley threatening to shut down the government again. You really want to prioritize what I should be doing right now?”

Leo caught her eye and with a nod of his head told her to sit down. He said, “Sir, you’re right but so is CJ. The country has things to worry about but the abuse issue is what people are most interested in.”

“And we’ll address it at the appropriate time. In the meantime, I want Nancy to give me a report on what the hell is happening in India. I thought we had an agreement working there.”

Josh spoke up. “We did but people aren’t happy with it.”

“What people?”

“Indians and Pakistanis. The leaders. Both sides are organizing their military. It looks like they’re going to blow up soon.”

Jed looked at Leo. “Get their ambassadors in here yesterday and get Nancy here the day before.”

Josh asked, “All together?”

The President thought for a minute. “One at a time and I don’t care who’s first. Leo, can we get the Prime Ministers on the phone for these meetings?”

“I’ll talk to Debbie.”

“How volatile is China and Tibet?”

Toby chimed in, “Not as bad as India and Pakistan.”

“Leo, can you and Nancy handle them?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jed called out, “Charlie!” The body man entered immediately. “Would you get me some hot tea, that lemon-ginger stuff and a granola bar or something. I didn’t eat breakfast this morning and I’m hungry.”

His staff remained in their seats. Jed started shuffling through the stack of papers on his desk. Finally he looked up. “Well, get out. I got work to do.”

CJ stayed in her chair. “Mr. President, we still have your press conference to talk about. The Express Truth is adding more to their lies every day. We have to get aggressive with them.”

Without taking his eyes from the documents in front of him, the President mumbled, “Get those,” he paused to find a more polite word but couldn’t find one appropriate for mixed company, “people in here. I want to talk to them.”

“Sir, don’t.”

“Why?”

“You’ll be giving them recognition. They’ll get an audience with you. Every word you say will get twisted into what they want.”

“Then we’ll make it a joint press conference, them and me.”

The room exploded in unison, “God no!”

Jed wasn’t going to listen to any argument. “This shit has got to end as soon as possible.”

CJ approached the desk. “Sir, it has to end as smoothly as possible which means it will take time.”

The resignation in his sigh was filled with aggravation. “Fine. You have a plan in mind?”

She’d been considering an option but the one she liked best was one that put them on the offensive. “I want to announce the formation of the Bartlet Foundation for the Protection of Children.”

The President stared at her. “Thank you for creating my next job for me. Do I have any say in this? It still is my life, right? Or is the mind starting to go?”

Understanding his resistance and giving into it were two different things. “We don’t have time to take care of this by writing a law or even get a rider onto some other piece of legislation. Your foundation will change the perception of you from a victim of child abuse to a warrior advocate in the fight. You have to be seen as strong and powerful. Jed Bartlet victim can’t stand up to Express Truth. It has to be Josiah Bartlet, President of the United States.”

Shaking his head, he nearly snarled.

Leo liked the idea, “We can put a foundation together relatively quickly.”

“I don’t need a foundation.” He leaned back in his chair. Remaining quiet was hard but he held onto silence for what seemed like forever before he calmly spoke. “Back when I was Governor, I worked with the University of New Hampshire on a new program they wanted. I personally helped them get funding from national and local businesses, the state, the feds, the CDC, other foundations. Go do your research. We’ll talk this afternoon. Right now, I need Nancy and Fitz in here. Leo, get them. Everyone, get out now.”

*****

The office at the Express Truth was barely an office. The paper itself was printed out of an old warehouse by old machinery. Alan Peterson smirked as he read the latest installment of his attack on Jed Bartlet. Francis Petrovich, Peterson’s uncle, had been a student at Manchester Preparatory Academy, the prestigious school where John Bartlet was headmaster. Uncle Frank hated the school and eventually flunked out despite the cash the Petrovich family tried to funnel in as bribes to keep the ill-suited Frank there. His hate for the Bartlets stewed for decades and when Josiah, the boy genius, his classmate, turned into the President, enough was enough. The television revelations about Jed’s father gave Frank an opening to destroy the family he hated. He started talking about the abuse he saw with Jed and decided to include himself in the accusations. Then he could take down the kid who always got top grades as well as further discredit the man responsible for fucking up his life.  

Frank sat with Alan and sipped a cup of coffee as he pushed ahead with the upcoming conversation. “What’s this edition gonna say?”

“Just what you told me. That Bartlet knew his father was raping boys and said nothing when the police questioned him.”

Frank’s frustration spiked his voice. “It’s only my word so far. That’s not enough. And in case you forgot, I’m lying. “

Certainly, Alan knew Frank was lying. John Bartlet did nothing except expel his uncle for poor grades and Jed Bartlet had nothing to do with that. Looking at his nephew, Frank said, “I know someone. He was a student at MPA. John Bartlet fucked him and fucked him a lot and el Presidente was there watching it all when it happened. Will he do?”

“What’s his name?”

“Let me talk to him first.”

Frank walked out without saying anything like where he was going, when he would come back or even when he might call again. His nephew scowled and banged his hands on the desk. “Damn him. I got to get names if we’re going to take down that stupid left-wing prick.”

He dialed his phone and waited for someone to answer. “It looks like I got a second man willing to say Bartlet senior raped him and junior was there when it happened.” There was a snarky pause. “Yeah, soon. We’ll have him soon. He’ll have to come back to New Hampshire to answer charges. You still willing to help convince him?”

*****

Frank walked into the high end diner and sat at a table toward the back away from the other patrons. The server came over. “Give me a Rob Roy.”

The disinterested server said nothing and returned two minutes later with the drink on a tray. After placing it on the table, she handed him a menu. “Anyone joining you?”

“Yeah. He’ll be here in a minute. Bring some water, too.”

On cue, the door to the diner opened and a man walked in. Bert Mackillop was pale, overweight, balding and looking like his life hadn’t been kind. Despite that, his clothes were neat and clean, shoes polished. He had some pride but his anger at the world wasn’t easily hidden. His expression was permanent hatred. You knew even if he smiled, it was a sneer.

He stared at Frank. The waitress walked over and he told her, “Seven and seven.”

Shaking her head, she walked away saying, “I haven’t heard that one in some time.”

Bert wasn’t amused. Staring at Frank he asked. “What the hell do you want, Frank? I’m not here all afternoon.”

Trying for coy but being too stupid to pull it off, Frank opened the menu. “I want lunch. They make a good patty melt here and the fries are really good.”

“You don’t call me to talk over hamburgers. What do you have on Bartlet?”

“Well, with your help, we can take him.”

 _Take him_ was a loaded phrase. It ran from making Jed squirm to ruining his career or ultimately screwing up his place in history.

“Take him how?”

The Rob Roy and seven and seven appeared. The server asked, “Know what you want?”

Mumbling for only Frank to hear, Bert sneered, “I want him dead.”

Frank answered loudly in hopes the server didn’t hear Bert’s remarks. “Two patty melts with fries, medium well.”

Bert disagreed. “You got chicken soup?” The server nodded. “Get me some. No patty melt.”

As the girl walked away, Frank asked Bert, “What do you want to happen to him?”

“I want him dead but he’s the goddamn President. Too many bodyguards.”

“We can bring him down and get him to a place where we can get to him easy.”

Bert sighed with disgust. “He’s untouchable. The asshole got elected President after admitting he was physically unfit for office and lying about it. I want him dead and ugly dead. The uglier the better.”

Frank stared at the man across the table. “You’re still a son of a bitch.”

“So is Bartlet.”

“I know why I hate boy genius Jed. Still not sure about you.” A bowl of soup appeared in front of Bert. “I mean, I don’t care if he lives or dies. You want him dead.”

“I want that lying son-of-a-bitch to be strung up by his balls.”

A patty melt got put in front of Frank. “You want ketchup or mustard?”

“No, just leave us alone.” As she walked away, Frank kept hammering at him. Why? It can’t be just the fucking his old man did.”

“His old man didn’t rape any of us. It’s him.”

“So, again, why?”

Bert slurped his soup. “He was a good fuck.”

Frank dropped his hamburger. “You fucked him?”

“I want him dead.”

Frank started to grin. “He’s going to out you.”

“He’ll be dead first.”

 


	15. Making Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jed has to make a diecision he's not prepared to make.

The White House kept on working on its all so many issues. Everyone tried to ignore the ghost of John Bartlet but it wasn’t working. The press was getting more and more belligerent about it. Daily CJ blew off questions about the President’s past. It had to be confronted and she had to confront the man.

He sat at the end of the couch in the Oval Office reading a report and making notes. Charlie announced her and he put down the papers with a sigh. His glasses were pulled from his face and thrown on the small table next to him. CJ saw the throw and knew he wasn’t going to be happy with her. That didn’t matter. The press conference had to be planned.

“Good afternoon, Mr. President. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

“Well, I’m the President of the United States and I’m reading a Security Council Report on North Korea so, I don’t think it’s of any importance.”

She recognized the smart-ass remark for what it was and didn’t care. “Yeah, fine. I don’t care right now. You’ve been avoiding what has to happen and I have to put it out there. No more delaying things. No one cares about Korea. They want your story and they want details.”

Anger surfaced immediately. “I don’t give a damn.”

She countered. “Neither do I.”

It wasn’t what he expected to hear. “What the hell do you want, CJ? And you know what I don’t want to hear for an answer.”

“Yeah, I know and that’s too bad.” Her upcoming confrontation promised hard problems ahead but she pressed on. “I don’t care. My job is to protect the Presidency and since you’re the President that means you. Now, if you don’t want me to do my job then fire me and I’ll leave the White House. Then you can find someone else to help you get through this. Think someone else would care more than I do?”

He stood up slowly and moved with measured steps to his desk. When he sat down, he swiveled his chair to face the window. “You think anyone cares more than I do?”

CJ moved to the desk and sat at the side chair. “Sir, yes, I do think others care more than you do. You want to forget what happened and I don’t blame you. No one does but all of us can see what this revelation has done to you.” Time to tell it to him point blank. “You want to be viable as President. If that’s the case then you have to get rid of this ghost hanging over you. It colors everything. You have to divest yourself of your father once and for all.”

“And how do I do that? If I hold a press conference, my life becomes fodder for explaining any decision I make. My childhood will be pointed to as to why I commit to one conclusion rather than another and then the conclusion itself won’t matter. My Presidency becomes on great big process story.”

“That’s what’s happening now. Getting rid of your father’s specter is the only solution and you know it.”

He turned to meet her eyes. “There is never any way of getting rid of my father’s specter. I stupidly put it out there and it will color my legacy regardless of how much I work to minimize it. I am my father’s son and that cannot be changed. The only thing I can do is complete my term without referring to my childhood at all. That means no press conference.”

She shook her head. “Sir, you’re one of the smartest men the world has ever seen and you are so very, very wrong right now. Being an abused child is part of your history and it will be in each biography written about you from now until eternity. In fact, there will be books written about you that just talk about the abuse. Medical records will be found. Witnesses will be found and you will be exposed in ways you won’t like. If we are able to control the information then we have more control over what gets out and you have more control over what people think. You need to address your father’s abuse and the accusations that the Express Truth is making that you were a participant in abusing the boys at your school. We have to disprove those accusations.”

He turned toward her. “How do we do that?” His fist slammed at the desk sending one of the glass paperweights off the edge and onto the floor. “The minute I open my mouth is the minute they assume that rag is right and I’m covering things up. I won’t do it. I will not do it. If that means you want to quit then quit. I understand. I want you to stay but not if I have to talk about my past.” He rubbed the edge of his right hand where it hit against a marble pen holder.

CJ sat there and looked at the President. His eyes never met hers and she knew he was avoiding hers. “Sir, my quitting was an empty threat and you knew that. I can’t leave you when all this is going on. I’m going to plan a few events that address your father’s abuse and you’re going to attend them. We’ll plan everything out and we will win this battle with the Express Truth. You will come out on top and the result will be a new awareness of child abuse and a renewed respect for your world leadership. You will be noted as a President whose abilities were far more powerful than the powers the Constitution gave him. Children have been hurt, beaten, sexually abused for thousands of years and you, Josiah Edward Bartlet, could actually be the one person in this universe who might begin to break that chain. You always say that we should never doubt that a small group of committed, thoughtful citizens can change the world.”

“Don’t throw my own words at me.”

“Why not?” She got up and walked to the glass paperweight laying on the floor.  She leaned over to pick it up. It reflected the lamplight from his desk. The blue streaks flashed across the glass. CJ put it back on his desk. “Sir, we’re going to do this. I’ll work on a couple of scenarios and we can discuss which way to go but we will get to the press and face this. I’m going to go talk to Abbey about it. Then we’ll meet with Dr. Keyworth. You don’t get an opinion any longer.”

He stared into her eyes as deeply as he possibly could and she felt the piercing into her brain. “Is that so, Ms. Cregg?”

Despite the hooks he threw at her with those deep blue eyes, she placed both feet firmly on the floor. “Yes, sir. It’s so. If you’re not willing to take care of this, then someone has to. Looks like I’m that someone.”

“Pretty ballsy of you, Claudia Jean.”

With pure defiance, she stood up to her full six feet and said, “Someone has to be.”

Anger colored his face. His fist hit the desk again this time breaking his hand against the edge of his telephone. He grimaced as he watched a trickle of blood ooze from his little finger. “Shit.” The handkerchief in his pocket made its way to his hand. “You know that business about quitting? You can do that now.”

“No, sir. I won’t.” She came as close to him as she could get with a desk between them. “You need help right now. I can supply that help and I’m going to.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Stop with that bull shit.” She looked at the increasing red blotch on his handkerchief. “You should have that looked at.”

Pulling the handkerchief away he saw the damage. It was minimal though the finger ached a bit. Looking at it was odd. It wasn’t his hand. The fingers belonged to a child. The bleeding started to escalate and he couldn’t understand. It was like his vision at the farm. Drawing his left hand up, it was the same bloody and childlike. Intense pains shot up both arms. His face reflected the sudden agony and CJ shouted out for help. “Charlie, Debbie! Something’s wrong!”

She ran to his side and got him seated. Charlie flew in right ahead of Debbie and the Secret Service. The flash of bleeding hands was already gone. “Get out of here! I’m fine!” No one moved. The President demanded all to, “Get out now!” and they did except for CJ and Charlie.

The young man, who loved his President as his father, stayed behind. “Sir, are you sure you’re okay? Dr. Bartlet wants to know if anything happens, anything at all.”

CJ had already backed off a little, sitting in the arm chair next to the Resolute Desk. “Yes, Charlie, get her.”

Jed looked at her. “You answering for me now, too?”

She stepped over the line but didn’t care. “Yes. We need to talk to her.” She pointed at her President. “Something weird just happened to you. Abbey made us all promise to get her if anything weird happened.” CJ nodded at Charlie who left before Jed could object.

“You’re pushing it, Claudia Jean.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

She leaned back, crossed her ankles and her arms. “One of the best things I like about you is your inability to lie about important things.”

“I lie just fine.”

“Yeah, okay.” A thought popped into her head. “I should get Leo.”

“He’s on the Hill. Let him be.” Jed closed his eyes and thought back to his last encounter with the bloody image of childlike hands. That was brought on when the imagined hand of his dead mother touched him. This incident was nothing like that. He wasn’t near home. She wasn’t in his thoughts. “Let it go, CJ.”

Two minutes of silence passed before CJ asked, “You want some water? Some iced tea maybe?”

The door to the office swung open and Abbey, with Charlie in tow, barged in like the Yanks onto Normandy Beach. “No caffeine. If he wants tea, it’s decaf.”

“Ah, my keeper has arrived.”

CJ emptied her chair and moved it closer to the President. Abbey sat down and touched his forehead. “No fever, thank God. What happened?” He wanted it all to be over. He had a good cover story. “I got mad and bashed my hand. CJ saw blood and went berserk.”

Abbey already had the cut hand in hers. “This doesn’t look like much.” Then she spied the handkerchief. “Looks like it bled a bit but after we wash it, a small Band-Aid will do.” The dutiful First Lady looked at CJ. “This is the emergency?”

“Not quite, ma’am. He left out a little bit.”

Abbey screwed her face knowing that a sin of omission had been committed. “So, Jed, tell me the whole story, now.”

Getting into particulars wasn’t what he wanted especially with witnesses. “CJ, Charlie, get out. I want to talk to Abbey alone.” His guardians hesitantly left when they got a confirming nod from the First Lady. The door closed behind them. “Remember at the farm when I imagined my hands turned all bloody?”

She whispered, “Oh, yeah.”

“I imagined my hands were all bloody after her image touched me?”

That incident was burned into her head. “Yeah, it scared me to hell.”

“Me, too.” His right hand was raised for examination. Then his left hand. “It was the same thing except without her being part of it and the hands were mine but they looked my hands when I was a kid. They were a boy’s hands.”

Abbey reached out to pull his hands out of his sight. She turned his head to look directly at her. “Jed, that’s a hallucination. Your mind is playing ungodly tricks on you and it scares me. We need Stanley and maybe an increase in your medication.”

“No more medication. These are psychotropic he wants to feed me. A President can’t be eating psychotropic medications.”

“Why not?”

The answer seemed obvious to him. So obvious that he didn’t think he needed to answer her and he didn’t.

“Good. Avoid the problem and it will go away. The problem with that is this problem isn’t going away and it won’t until you confront it more completely.” She filled with that odd combination of anger and hurt. “It’s going to fester and fester until the blood is real because you’ve cut your wrists.”

His voice bounded, “I’m not suicidal! How could you think that

“You’d never eat a gun but you’re killing your soul and that is killing the rest of us with you.”

The painfully dark and serious look in Abbey’s eyes was all the convincing he needed. Now his father was not only beating him, the bastard was hurting his wife, the one person he swore his father would never touch. “CJ wants me to talk to the press.”

“We could talk to the press together.”

His head shook. “No. He’s my demon and I don’t want a lecture on what’s yours is mine, blah, blah, blah. This isn’t like that.”

“Jed, please,”

The interruption was immediate. “No. If I’m going to stand up to him, I have to do it by myself.” He put on a snarky grin. “Can’t have a girl, even if she’s a pretty girl, fighting my battles for me.”

His visage snapped. His eyes burned as tears began to stream. Anger filled him and his hands flew to his face. Behind his hidden face he muttered, “God damn him.”

Abbey held him close to her. “I think He already has, my love.”

Time for tears was over. Grabbing his slightly bloody handkerchief, he found a clean spot and wiped his eyes. “Alright. This is done with. CJ and I will figure out how to face the gaggle. Maybe Stanley should be in on this, too.”

“And me. Don’t forget me.”

He smiled at her. “Never could.” Then as he sit back farther in his chair, his eyes turned to something inside his head and he wasn’t seeing her. The fixation was on his hallucination. “Why do I see blood on my hands? It’s . . . It’s disconcerting at the least and why is my brain misfiring like this? Could it be the MS starting in on my brain?”

The thought that it was MS based never occurred to Abbey and his bringing it up threw her. Now she had a new fear and no clue how to alleviate it. “Oh, Jed, I never heard of MS causing hallucinations. I guess it’s not impossible but I . . . just . . . don’t know.”

“Should I schedule a PET scan? I can’t be hallucinating and be President.”

Abbey took both Jed’s hands in hers. “Babe, I don’t know what’s happening but let’s get the scan so we can throw out the possibility of this being MS related.”

He grabbed his hands back and tucked them into tight fists that covered his eyes. “Because going crazy is better than having MS?”

Gently, she pulled his hands from his eyes. “Look at me.” He didn’t. “Josiah Bartlet, look at me now.”

“I don’t need a pep talk. I need answers.”

Her hand cupped his jaw and she turned his head up to meet her eyes. “Answers might not be that easy to get. I don’t know about the hallucinations. We’ll talk to Stanley and we’ll get the scan.”

“In between the press conferences CJ wants me to do?” He kissed the palm of her hand. A plaintive voice quite unlike his typical steadfast speech pattern whispered, “I love you and I hate what this is doing to you.”

“Till death do us part. I’m your wife and I’m with you forever. Understand that, okay? You have to understand that. You are not alone in this.”

With a deep gut-churning sigh, he walked across the Oval Office to the door leading into the hallway. The President was back. “I got to talk to CJ.”

Abbey watched him stride out into the hallway and fought her instinct to follow. His emotions were strung tighter than the wires on a harp. One wrong touch and he’d be pushed over the edge of what this odd precipice was. She stayed in his office and picked up the phone. “Debbie, get me Stanley Keyworth please.”

Jed walked through the West Wing with one destination in mind. He entered the office and closed the door behind him. CJ stood immediately. “Mr. President, I wasn’t expecting you. How’s the hand?”

The small cut was already forgotten. “It’s fine. Sit down, please.” She followed orders. “CJ, you want me to do a press conference. I don’t want to do it but I can’t keep living with this over my head. I need to have this done with. How soon can you plan something and how ridiculously appalling will it get?”

“If you hold a typical press conference, it will be horrifically appalling. If we try to control it in any way, we will be hit with accusations of hiding the truth. I’m willing to live with that if you are.”

It felt like his body just gave up and the sinking feeling in his gut wouldn’t go anywhere. His head shook from side to side. “I’ll face them all and all their questions.”

After a few deep breaths, CJ asked, “Are you sure? They’re going to be animals. They will ask you things you never imagined and want answers that make sense to them.”

He laughed with more snark than he thought he had. “I want answers, too.”

It was obvious to CJ that the President was talking about things that no one could answer. “Sir, this is going to be . . . well, difficult. You have to be ready for whatever they throw at you.”

“Let them throw their worst. I lived through it. They can’t be any worse than that.”

“That’s what you think.”

He didn’t want to hear any more.  “Plan it, CJ. Soon.”

Even though she nodded in agreement, CJ had one more thing to say, “I’ve got an idea. Interested?”

Defeat shrouded him. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Do you trust me?”

He wasn’t sure of anything but slowly nodded.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter being so short. I again have been ill but this story does have an ending!


End file.
